


Pokemon: Beautiful Dreamers

by MEWTWOTRAINERX



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Friendship, Kanto Region, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Battle, Pokemon Journey, Pokemon Training, Rivalry, Team Rocket - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEWTWOTRAINERX/pseuds/MEWTWOTRAINERX
Summary: Years ago, an infant was abandoned by his parents so they could become pokemon trainers. Remora was taken in and raised as the little brother by a distant relative, Sarai, who was also abandoned by her family who sought to become trainers. Sarai wants Remora to complete his education and stay with her in Pallet Town, so he's forced to trick her, and with three other runaways he begins his journey, but now a long, hard road awaits him. What they never tell you is that not everybody can be a Pokémon Master.





	1. I Choose You, Charmander!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically me coming out of retirement. I actually used to write a series of pokémon fanfics that had a decent amount of viewership, but when I thought that kind of thing was behind me I deleted everything. This is kind of a remake of my old one, but it’s going to be very different, not that anybody would know. I wound up reading an English translation of the Pocket Monsters: The Animation light novel written by one of the show’s originals writers, and a lot of elements from that are going to be used in it, although they aren’t in the same universe. I can’t post a link, but if you want to read it just Google “dreamwidth pokemon the novel”.
> 
> Speaking of universes, this is kind of an AU: all the places, organizations, and even some of the events are the same, but all the characters—gym leaders, champions, and other side characters—are different. You can imagine it as an alternate universe, or simply as a time decades or centuries ahead of the games and anime, it comes down to the same thing.
> 
>  
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.

~*~Prologue~*~

 

It happened ten years ago, on a wet April’s night, as all Viridian City’s streams and ponds vanished beneath their own engorged waters. There was little lightning, but the wind thundered hard against the buildings, scattering ceiling tiles to be swept away by the shallow waters flowing across the brick roads. High above, from a house on a nearby hill, a pair of police officers strained their eyes through binoculars, peering for signs of suspected tornadoes. Far below, in the pokémon center, the nurse lit candles one by one, conserving the emergency generator’s power for the purposes of medical machinery. The pokémon under her care, restless from the storm, followed her, gathering with delighted wonder about every burning wick before moving on to the next.

The last place lit was the lobby, for she expected no visitors, and it required the most candles. The nurse set the candles on countertops, tables, shelves and video-phones. With some hesitation, she flipped on the front electric light, in case anybody sought shelter in the storm. The nurse looked about, seeking satisfaction from her work, when she noticed the pokémon had lost interest in her work. All of them had gathered near the front windows, pressing their forelimbs and faces right against the panes. The nurse could see nothing, but dim shapes and dark colors distorted by the downward flow of rain.

 The nurse called the pokémon, telling them the fun was over and it was time to return to their pokeballs, but they paid no mind to her. Instead they all got agitated, uttering frantic cries and tapping the windows. Chansey stepped away from the crowd and veered towards the door, which it tapped repeatedly with pleading looks towards the nurse.

 Recognizing their genuine alarm, the nurse instinctively reacted, grabbing her red rubber coat from its rack, and once she had it on she ran outside. Chansey followed her, but one of the others darted past her the moment she opened the door. A Poliwhirl stood in the rain, pointing insistently, and the nurse followed.

 Poliwhirl and Chansey did not lead her far away, but just to the town square, where the public fountain overflowed. Gold and silver coins rose from the depths, carrying off the wishes made for them, only to be lodged between the brickwork of the square. Rocking wildly on the fountain’s rim was an oval-shaped plastic basket with a blue fabric hood. Poliwhirl grabbed the object, then returned it to the nurse.

 The nurse unfolded the hood and gasped to discover a pale little newborn whose mouth opened in a scream swallowed by the wind. It was cold, but mostly dry, as the carrier had done its job very well. He had a hoary head of colorless hair and clutched an envelope on his chest. The nurse’s first priority was to get him safe, so the three of them ran back to the center as fast as they could.

 The nurse set the carrier down, left the baby, and had to shoo the pokémon crowd away once she returned with a bottle of warm milk. Chansey fed the baby as the nurse opened the envelope. She lifted the letter inside a few feet above the largest candle and read:

 

_“ “His father is a trainer, but he left to continue his journey. The problem is, my dream is also to become a pokémon master. I decided to leave this child by the fountain since it is the place where all the people of this town gather, and I cannot stand the humiliation of giving him away myself. Please take care of him or find someone who will. His name is Remora. I will return for him when I am a great pokémon master.””_

 

The nurse huffed up, clucking in indignation at such callous behavior. How long had that boy been out there? Probably before the storm even started; the nurse could not imagine any mother, even a callous one, deliberately choosing to abandon their baby in the middle of the storm. In any case, once the storm ended, she would have to call Officer Jenny to figure out what to do about this situation.

That is exactly what the nurse did and for about a month in Viridian City there was a great furor over the matter of this child. The police conducted an official investigation, but there were no hospital records relating to the child or any child like him, nor did any of the trainers, either locals or known passerby, seem likely candidates. Nobody knew of any young pregnant women who were trainers or had left the area. Ultimately, as no information turned, local indignation rotted into boredom, and the matter was forgotten.

As for Remora, there were no orphanages anywhere nearby—due to a lack of orphans—and so plans were made to send him off to the orphanage in Saffron City. However, at the last minute, plans changed. A young woman from Pallet Town, claiming to be his relative. It was public knowledge that every one of her relatives had left to become a pokémon trainer, leaving her alone, but she was evasive about which ones were Remora’s parents or the nature of the relation. Regardless, she took him to live with her, where he would stay for ten years until the day when, like his parents before him, he would leave on his pokémon journey.

Except he didn’t, because his sister stopped him. And the year after that. Now he is thirteen years old, three years older than most trainers are when they leave on their journey, and the day when pokémon are given out to new trainers is coming again. This year, however, he is determined that it shall be different.

 

~*~Chapter One~*~

~*~I Choose You, Charmander~*~

 

While sitting at the kitchen counter a pale-skinned, gray-haired boy, short, slender, and pink-eyed, stared nervously at the calendar pinned to the pink floral print wall, with its mountainous landscape dappled with cherry blossoms, the very archetype of springtime images, and the month was April. That simple calendar was but a single conspirator within a vast web of conspiracy, other members including every calendar, clock, computer, and those two wood blocks with the numbers on Remora’s sister Sarai’s work desk. Not only those objects, but all those in the neighbors’ houses that Remora’s sister regularly visited, as well as those in the local community library, grocery store, and the big one in the middle of the square. 

Right after the new year, when the absence of work caused by the holidays, Sarai easily lost track of what day it was. So, Remora had gone to all his neighbors and to city hall and pleaded with them to set all the clocks back by a single day, and they had all agreed. The library had been the hardest part, for she was head librarian there. Fortunately, her position meant she never actually checked books in and out or handled late fees. This duplicity had been going on for over three months now. The appointed day of the eleventh was nearly here, and as far as Remora could tell, his sister believed it was only the tenth.

“Good morning, Remora,” said Sarai as she stepped into the kitchen, nose in a book. Remora had just set her breakfast of rice and eggs down, as well as his own, although he could only nibble it. His stomach was preoccupied with a heavy knot of fear and guilt twisting in place.

“You feeling alright?” Sarai said without looking up.

“I’m fine,” Remora said. He watched as quickly downed her meal with her trademark enormous bites, swallowing chunks no human throat could rightly handle. Remora tried to eat quicker. His sister finally looked up, smiled slightly, and set down here book.

“Listen, Remora, I know what day it is,” she said.

Remora stopped breathing. “You do?”

“Yes, it’s the day before they give away the pokémon at Professor Ashes’ laboratory,” said Sarai. Her smile was gently tolerant, very understanding. “I know how you feel Remora, but…”

 “And I know how you feel,” said Remora sullenly.

 “Listen, I just don’t understand why you want to become a pokémon trainer anyway,” she said.

 “For goodness’ sake, your parents abandoned you just to become pokémon trainers. And so did mine. That’s the way it’s always been in this town! I mean, that’s the reason Coraline doesn’t have a father, or Clarence, or Ferdinand, or, or, basically two-thirds of your classmates.”

 “I know.”

 “And, and, all my librarians are women. The mayor, all her staff, they’re all women. There are hardly any working men in town and not that many elsewhere. Because there are no jobs, the men all leave to become trainers thinking they'll strike it rich, leaving the women with the children. Assuming they don’t run off, too. Really, that woman had nerve, saying she’d come back for you once she became a master. As if that would ever happen. As if she had the right.”

 “Yes.”

 This speech, with slightly differences in word choice and order of subject, had been repeated the last few years at this time.

 “It’s kind of annoying, actually, because a while ago I just realized she gave you such a unique name, so she could find you easier…” Sarai’s tongue darted out, licking her mouth corners, as it always did when she felt annoyed. “I almost want to change your name.”

 “I’d rather not.”

 “Of course not. That would be stupid. Besides, if you’re easy to find, that just makes it easier for me to tell her exactly how I feel.”

 “Yes.”

 Sarai frowned at his latest monosyllabic response and sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Remora. I just love you and want what’s best for you. I want you to complete your education, I want you to get a good job down at city hall, or maybe even somewhere big and bright and important like Celadon or Saffron.”

 “I’d rather work at Celadon.”

 Sarai grunted grim amusement. “Yeah, me, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. Listen, Remora, how about tomorrow we take the ferry down to Fuchsia City? We can go to the zoo.”

 Remora expected to receive an offer like this and he made sure to bolt up in his chair instantly and try to seem as excited as possible. “Really?”

Sarai grinned. “Yes, really. We can make a day of it. First, we’ll go to the zoo, then maybe tour the Safari Zone, perhaps spend some time at the beach… Take a look at the local school…”

“That all sounds wonderful!” With his meal finished, Remora hopped down from his chair and ran to his sister for a hug, a very tight and long one, and he was glad she gave him such good news to justify it. “Thank you, Sarai.”

“I only want you to be happy,” she said.

Remora separated for her and made for the living room. “Hey, I promised Coraline I’d meet her today…”

“Of course, of course. Go on ahead. I’m about to head to work.”

Remora stared at his sister for a long, frightening minute. They had just shared this moment together, and now he was about to abandon her, like the rest. The dream he had came stronger, though, and he justified it to himself. Every child is supposed to do this. For a child to be denied this was unnatural.

“Good-bye,” he said, and hurried out.

Remora restrained himself for as long as he remained in sight of their lavender house that sat all alone on top of a small hill near the edge of town, but once he was confident his sister couldn’t see him through the windows he ran. Remora ran down the dirt road that wound down the gently sloping hill, past numerous other country cottages. Beyond them spread the lush green fields and beyond them, the tree-cloaked hills, and beyond those, the great wilderness, stark and unbreakable, overflowing with pokémon.

 Remora came to the square, which consisted of a circular arena of brick colored and arranged to resemble an enormous pokémon split into seven segments for seven colors of the rainbow. City hall, a large building composed of aging, dark-brown wood, curved along the pokeball’s upper lid.  The clock built above its column-flanked entrance had rotating metal tiles containing the date right above it, which remained duplicity. A fountain ornamented with spewing Poliwag and Poliwhirl posed as the button, and a young girl sat on its rim.

 She had dirty-blonde hair, cut in a very short and boyish fashion; her clothes were masculine as well, being a matching set of dark-green pants and button-up shirt. If Remora hadn’t known she a girl, he would think she was a boy. The expression on her face was cool, although Remora thought he could see irritation in her green eyes.

 “You’re late,” she said.

 “I’m sorry,” he said.

 “It’s fine. I was just sitting here, right in front of my mom, thinking how great it would be if I got caught.” Coraline’s mother served as the mayor’s secretary and subscribed to similar views at Remora’s sister, which she had spent much of the last decade trying to spread about, with little success. The people of this town kept operating under the dream that one day this town would produce another great trainer again, just like Professor Ashes' grandfather.

 “Let’s just hurry, okay?” Remora said.

 “Right.”

 Warily looking side-to-side, Remora and Coraline took the road southeast, through the sparsest region of town. They only passed the bar, a few restaurants, and the one hotel before the opened wide, with various paths spreading outwards to isolated and lonely residences, as well as the water tower. They walked alongside a gently flowing stream and crossed a simple wooden bridge to the base of a long, densely wooded hill.

 Remora’s heart danced to hear the distant cries and motions of pokémon stirring deep within the greenery. He knew that behind it, hidden by the trees and the hill, spread Professor Ashes’ enormous ranch, where he studied and cared for the precious pokémon of Pallet Town’s trainer.

 Ahead of them a slender metal windmill rose above the bulbous, rose-colored rooftops of the Ashes Institute. Long, skinny windows were built into their beige walls and a winding stone staircase, flanked by decorative bushes, led up the hill from the path. A brass gate was set between two irregular brown-brick plinths with a speaker built in, although this was not meant for security, since one could just walk around it.

 Remora pressed the button beneath the speaker. It buzzed, and a gruff voice said, “Yes?”

 “It’s Remora and Coraline, Professor Ashes.”

 “Ah, good. Now we can get started,” he said. “Come on in.”

 The gate did not need to be unlocked, so they just pushed it open. The front door was already open, and they walked into a broad open room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Their feet thudded loudly against the aged wooden board. Two enormous bookshelves divided the room, leaving a small channel between them, and beyond that the room suddenly teemed with machinery. Several computers and monitors were stacked in the left corner and a flat metal table surrounded by various strange testing machines huddled together in the right corner. In the center stood a circular metal table built into the floor with three people beside it.

 A man in his late middle age with a weary, indifferent look on his face stood behind it. His skin was tanned, and hands gnarled with years of work. He was wrapped in a white lab coat and wore a salt-and-pepper goatee below a matching widow’s peak. Remora this was Professor Ashes, but he did not know the other two.

 At first, he thought they were two girls his own age, but then he realized one of them was a tall, boy with long, curly black hair wearing skinny jeans and a lavender shirt with a diving collar. A twisted little smile curled on his heart-shape face right below his black eyes with enormous, flouncing eyelashes.

 The other was definitely a girl, however, who was only slightly less tall than the other stranger, who was something of a mess. Sweat and dirt covered her, especially her blue hair with a ponytail coming out of place. Her sleeveless top, striped in narrow shades of red, and her jeans short that extend right below her knees were damp, filthy, and even torn in places. Dried mud caked her heavy hiking boots and lower legs. This strange girl had a small face, with a small, sharp nose and chin, and cool green eyes. A bulging, heavy burgundy backpack swelled behind her and she leaned back a little from the burden.

 “So, believe it or not,” said Professor Ashes, his voice dispassionate and dry. “This is all we have this year.”

 “Really?” Remora said. “What about the other ten-year-olds?”

 “There are none,” said Professor Ashes. “Well, there are, but they aren’t coming here. All the mothers are keeping them home. Everybody here is thirteen or fourteen, well above the standard age. What’s more, these two aren’t even local.”

 “Our Moms are doing their jobs well,” growled Coraline.

 “Yes they are,” growled back the professor, “but I’ll be deviled if my own granddaughter isn’t allowed to pick her own pokémon.”

 The two strangers looked between Coraline and the Professor, whose resemblance in attitude was very clear. Remora approached them and extended his hand.

 “I’m Remora, and this is Coraline,” he said.

 The girl looked warily at him. “I’m Anemone… of Saffron City.”

 The boy’s grin seemed very unpleasant as their hands shook. I’m Manta, of Celadon.”

 “Don’t all the cities give away pokémon on the same day?” said Coraline.

 “Yes, but in case it wasn’t clear, these two are runaways,” said the professor. The two glared at the professor for divulging personal info, but he ignored them. “Fortunately, they aren’t running away a rabid anti-trainer movement in a dying small-town—we don’t need that kind of talk spreading around, certainly not—but they’re runaways nonetheless.”

 “Maybe we should just get down to busy,” Anemone said testily.

 “Yes, yes. Well. So, there’s a bit of a problem.” Professor Ashes pointed to the top of the table, where three pokéballs were set beside each other, each painted with symbols for water, fire, and grass.

 “So, the fact is when I told the Pokémon Association about my expected turnout, they… only sent me the bare minimum of pokémon as required by their policies,” the Professor said. “One of each specie.”

 The newcomers broke out in furious protest.

 “What?”

 “Are you kidding me?”

 “So what you’re saying is, basically,” said Manta with his caw-like voice, “not only is one of us not receiving a pokémon, but if two of us want the same one we have to argue it out?”

 “That’s not normal!”

 “Well, that’s the way things are,” he said. “But you are wrong at one point: there are enough pokémon for all of you.”

 Professor Ashes set a forth pokéball, marked with lightning, on the table.

 “I went out and caught a wild pokémon that I considered to be just as appropriate as a beginning choice as Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle. This is a Pikachu. Now, I would like to ask you all to keep this as civil as debate as possible. At the end of the day, a pokémon is still a pokémon, and—”

 Coraline snatched Pikachu’s pokéball and immediately nuzzled it against her cheek. “This is the precious pokémon my favorite grandpa went out of his way to catch himself, so of course I get this one.”

 “Hmmm.” Professor Ashes looked over the three of them. “Any objections? No? I thought not. Fortunately, it’s not as though any of you came here planning to choose a Pikachu.”

 “I volunteer to go last,” said Remora.       

“Who would volunteer to go last?” said Anemone sharply.

 Manta’s mouth twisted in its peculiar, smug way. “I volunteer to be second.”

 “Oh, you do, do you?” Anemone glared at Manta. Remora wondered how well they knew one another, if at all. The professor rolled his eyes.

 “Please don’t look a gift Horsea in the mouth, Anemone. Some of us are likely be running from angry relatives soon,” he said. “Pick, Anemone.”

 Anemone stepped in front of the table, let her hand hover above each ball, before plucking up the water-marked pokéball. “I choose Squirtle.”

 “An excellent choice,” said the professor.

 “In that case, I choose Bulbasaur!” said Manta confidently.

 “So that’s what you were about,” spat Anemone.

 “Selecting the starter with the advantage over the person who got first pick is a time-honored tradition of pokémon training,” said the Professor. “So then, Remora, I guess that means…”

 Remora took a single step towards the table. His heart thudded against his ribs and his skin shuddered with the cold sweats. Cupping his palms together, he hesitantly scooped the pokéball into his hands. Immediately he felt its rich, deep warmth soak into his hands, and the subtle twitch of the life inside it. Remora held it close to his chest and cried.

 “This went far smoother than I thought it would,” said the professor. He walked over to his computer and returned with four folding-style pokedexes in his hand. “Well, then, these are yours as well! Four pokedexes, each with the latest updates in order to make them the best portable pokémon encyclopedias as possible. Now, I have given you all that you need. Go out there and find your destinies as pokémon trainers.”

 “I challenge you to a battle, Manta!” Anemone said. “That was a nasty stunt you pulled there!”

 “I could already tell that you’re going to be my biggest competition!” Manta said. “Might as well start with an edge.”

 “You two can fight it out in the back,” he said, and looked at his granddaughter and Remora. “As for the two of you, I think it’d be best if you made a quick exit.”

 “Right,” they said.

 The professor walked them out the door, looked down at the path that his hilled overlooked, and pointed down over the part that stretched past his stairs. “This road continues on towards the sea before bending around. It forms a big loop around my entire ranch before linking up with Route 1. Once there, I’d suggest you stay off the road until you reach Viridian City. Here’ I’ve packed provisions for the both of you.”

 The professor handed them both backpacks that had already been sitting right inside the door.

 “Oh, thanks,” Remora said, mildly surprised, as he pulled the backpack’s straps around his arms.

 “It’s not as if you two could pack at home,” he said. The professor made to go back in to monitor the battle, but then he returned.

 “Listen, you two,” he said.

 “Yes sir?” Remora said. Coraline just looked at her grandfather mutely.

 “Do us all a favor,” he said, “and please become trainers worth what you’re doing to your families.” He shut the door, and they heard him shouting at the other two already.

 Numbly, Remora descended the stairs, thinking of what his sister would do and more vitally, how she would feel. Remora’s tears of joy became properly sorrowful and he couldn’t bear to think of ever facing her again, knowing what he had done to her. Maybe this feeling was why so many trainers left Pallet Town and not only never came back, but were never heard from again.

  “I wish you wouldn’t cry in front of complete strangers,” Coraline said testily. “It’s embarrassing for yourself and for me.”

 “I’m sorry,” he sniffed.

 Coraline sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t get too testy with you. I know how much you’ve wanted this.” She stared at her pokéball, then suddenly she launched herself into a wild spin, holding the pokéball away from her as if it were her opposite dancer, laughing and giggling all the while. “It’s happening! It’s finally happening! I’m so happy, so, so happy! This is the best day of my life! Remora, hurry, hurry, we need to get away from here. Nobody ever goes past the lab, once we’re far enough we can let our pokémon out!”

 Coraline pulled a pokéball belt from the bag, attached it and the pokéball, and ran down the road as fast as she could. Remora also ran, but far more awkwardly, for he kept his pokéball close to his chest. The warmth was cast against his chest, as if he were standing close to a fire.

 Their legs pumped until they ached, and they finally stopped far after the path finished curving to the left and east. Now they could see the sea, beyond the jagged, descended coast where saplings and shrubs sparsely grew, and to their right a towering white fence made up the border of the professor’s ranch.

 Coraline stopped, panting, and tossed her pokéball out. A Pikachu appeared at her feet, which she immediately snatched up.

 “Ooh, hello Pikachu!” she said. “I already love you!”

 The Pikachu giggled wildly, taking surprisingly well to this aggressive affection, and she even went as far as to tickle its tan belly. It screamed, squirming.

 Remora smiled a little, then walked to the sea, wanting to put some distance between himself the noise. He did not want to startle his pokémon, in case its personality was not as convenient as the Pikachu’s.

 Charmander appeared before Remora. It stared up at him, quizzically, and Remora got down to his knees, so they could face one another eye-to-eye.

 “Hello,” he said. Its burning tail swayed side to side behind it. “I’m Remora.”

 Remora held his hand out to it. “Listen, I’ve chosen you to become my very first pokémon. I want to go on a journey with you, but, if you don’t like me, well…”

 Its head pressed against Remora’s hand, there was a crunching sound, and Remora jumped away. It had bitten his fingers. However, no blood had been drawn, and Charmander was dancing happily in place, uttering happy, piping cries. The fire on its tail wavered wildly, and Remora knew from his reading that that meant it was happy.

 “You’re a scrappy little fellow, aren’t you?” said Remora. “That’s what I’ll name you, then, Scrappy. Does that sound good to you?”

 It nodded. Remora offered scrappy a path from his hand to his shoulder, and it climbed on. Remora tottered a bit from the unwieldly weight of both his new backpack and his new pokémon, then returned to his path, where Coraline waited.

 “So, do you want to have a battle, too?” Remora asked.

 “Naw,” she said. “I want bonding time before I get into trainer battles.”

 “That’s actually a really good idea.”

 “Of course, it is.” Coraline had recomposed herself. “So, I think we should split up, like we discussed. That still okay with you?”

 “Yeah.”

 The truth is, they were not the best of friends, and had only been united together with this singular desire of deceiving their families so they could become trainers and escape. They had agreed they would not travel together, because that meant if one of them had been caught, they both would be.

 “So, how about I hang east of the road, and you hang west.”

“It doesn’t matter either way, so I’m fine with it,” said Remora.

“Good.”

The rest of the long looping road felt far too long and he began to sweat heavily the whole way over, and not just because of Scrappy’s hot belly scorching the nape of his neck as they pressed together. Remora had no idea how long it would be until he was missed; he had hoped Sarai would remain too busy with work all day, but if Coraline’s mother grew suspicious, she would undoubtedly spread it to his sister.

It didn’t matter. They reached the end of the loop, and the beginning of Route One, with no problems. The road stretched before them, into the gently rolling plains between them and Viridian City.

“Well, ciao, and good luck!” said Coraline. Even her Pikachu made a little wave as she ran to the right, hurrying out of the city’s sight as fast as he could. With a wave in her direction, Remora and Scrappy took their step west, their first steps into their long-awaited journey.


	2. Lost on the Road to Viridian City

A few miles away north of Pallet Town and west of the road, Remora finally felt secure enough to reduce his hasty trot to a leisurely walk, so that he could finally begin to enjoy himself. The great expanse of the plains spread in every direction, flat and green and flower-speckled, with only squarish pinpricks here and there across the distant horizon marking out traces of isolated human habitations. Remora found a lonely tree to sit under, and drank water; he let out his Charmander, so that it might drink as well.

Three Pidgey flew in a group diagonally across the blue sky just ahead of them. Remora checked the branches, and found nothing, but he was in no hurry to get into his first battle. They sat there for a while and without realizing it, drifted off. After a few hours, his mind meandered into half-sleep and, realizing what he was halfway in, he rose with a start. The sun had swung farther into late afternoon.

After searching fearfully for Sarai, Remora restored his pokémon to its ball and hurried along, continuing to veer further and further west. The land began to rise, swelling into continuous shallow hills, like wrinkles in the earth’s forehead. The crevices between them with thick and hoary with dark-green bushes and towering weeds, but he fought his way through these even as they clawed at his socks and pantlegs, just to make it all the harder for his sister.

Stubbornly, perhaps without good cause, Remora remained between the hills even as the day waned. Darkness came quicker between the hills than everywhere else; he tripped, stumbled, and cut himself more often, using the gap overhead to guide him. 

Remora broke out into a broad opening, where a broad shallow bond fed by rock-lined creek murmured alone. The sky overhead was transitioning from orange to blue, which made this place seem like an appetizing choice to make camp. However, as he decided on this, he heard a commotion in the nearby bush.

A Rattata pounced toward the pond. It darted a few feet towards Remora, angrily chattering its teeth, and Remora released his Charmander. Rattata ran forward, striking Charmander in the belly with its full body, tossing it backward. Charmander swung its tail, scorching Rattata’s face; whiskers burnt. The Rattata flailed on its back for a few minutes, before jumping into the water.

Remora watched it swim to the opposite shore, little wisps of smoke rising from his soot-dusted face, where it turned and took a deep gulp of water. Then it rushed back into the shrubbery.

Charmander stomped its feet and made satisfied little cries. Remora supposed that would count as his first victory. Perhaps he should have tried harder to catch Rattata, but he had felt no urge to do so. Remora’s belief was that each pokémon caught was a commitment. Although most trainers considered catching as many as possible to be both desirable and necessary, that generally just lead to the majority of their pokémon spending all their time at various scientific ranches. Remora did not know what sort of pokémon he wanted to be his first catch, but he would know it when he saw it.

Remora set out his sleeping bag and, after a failed sharing attempted that permanently marked the sleeping bag with black spots, stuffed Charmander’s pokéball down near his legs. Remora stared up at the dazzling Milky Way and basked in the cool night air, until the singing of the bug-types lulled him to slumber.

Remora awoke the next morning somewhat surprised no pokémon had disturbed them. Letting Charmander out, they partook of a light breakfast of nutrition bars and pokémon kibble.

“Well, Scrappy, we should make it to Viridian City today,” Remora said.

Charmander stood attentively, tail bobbing.

“First things first, we need to find the path.” Remora’s eyes followed the shore of the pond, where he founds it waters releasing into a creek going downhill. “There, I bet that will go in the direction we want.”

Deciding this time to let Charmander stay out, the plucky pokémon was soon leading the way, moving far faster without effort and Remora could ever hope to. It remained nervously close to the hillsides, however, and as far from the water as possible. The land soon opened up, however, and although it had become very rocky and uneven, they were clearly getting closer back on track.

Remora had thought he would be able to see Viridian City by now, but the land seemed to fold upwards near the horizon, concealing it. At least, that was what Remora thought, at least until suddenly, and without warning, he nearly walked right over the path.

Remora backed up swiftly and Charmander nearly panicked when it nearly left him behind; it ran back to his legs as fast as he could. The path turned in the very opposite direction he thought Viridian City had been.

“Those hills must have mixed me up worse than I thought,” he said to Charmander. “Well, come on.”

Remora decided to always keep the path in sight, although he kept off it. Sarai would not have given up a search in just one day, if she had carried out one. Ahead Remora could see ranges of enormous hills forested in deep, dark greens, those legendary and ancient hills that cradled Viridian’s suburbs and gave it its name. Feeling confident he would reach Viridian so long as he kept heading towards those hills, Remora strayed further from the path, into the woods growing along the slopes.

Yesterday he had hardly encountered any pokémon, and today he saw nothing but birds and bugs flying overheard. This time, he felt determined to do better. On the crest of a slopes he saw a great bundle of dense bushes, just perfect for pokémon to hide in. Remora ran towards these and pointed.

“Scrappy, use Smokescreen!” he commanded. Charmander toddled up, opened its mouth, and coughed. It stared quizzically at him.

Remora pulled out his pokédex for the first time and tapped his foot impatiently through its first boot screens until it let him scan Charmander.

“Scratch, Ember, and Tail Whip,” he said. “Well, fine. I don’t want to start a forest fire so… Tail Whip?”

“Rwa-ra-ra-rwa-ra, ra,” chanted Charmander mockingly, shaking its blazing tail while also smacking it, which Remora didn’t think was part of the standard attack.

Remora hearted jumped in place as he heard a rapid rushing noise come up deep within the foliage, but it came to quick for him to react. Charmander uttered a high squeal, bounding high into the air, tearfully clutching its rear. The male Nidoran’s horn glinted in its victim’s own fire, as if with satisfaction.

Charmander landed and it turned, face darkly contorted with rage, and uttered a bulb of fire straight into the air. Nidoran twisted its ahead aside dismissively, pretending as though it had not notice. Charmander chattered wildly and charged.

“Start off with Scratch!”

Charmander scrabbled at Nidoran’s face, but it blunted the blows with its large horn and flared its ears outwards, drawing its lips back away from its gums as it uttered a deep, guttural snarl. Charmander did the same, teeth and gums practically thrusting away from its jaws. The muscles of their faces strained as they bellowed deep, menacing threat displays against one another. Briefly a cold, sinking feeling came over Remora as seeing such a primeval, basic expression of territoriality—briefly he even feared it instinctively, despite knowing neither was directed at him—but he got ahold of himself quickly.

“Use Ember!”

A fireball burst against Nidoran, tossing it onto its back. Charmander eagerly approached only for its brief, stout legs to thrust outwards, brutally beating Charmander with a cascade of kicks. Uttered an extremely frustrated noise, Charmander repeated its ember, and Nidoran moved with less force.

“This is it!” he cried. Charmander forgot its pain and clapped like an infant. Taking an empty pokéball from his belt, he clutched it in both hands, before hurtling it forward—thoughtlessly acting just as he did playing baseball in elementary school—so that it struck the Nidoran full-on.

The pokéball sucked Nidoran up whole, shook thrice, and uttered a bell tone. Almost disbelieving, Remora crept up to the ball, expecting it to burst any second, before running up and holding it high.

“I caught my first pokémon!” he shouted. Charmander jumped upwards, imitating Remora perfectly, even as he brought his arms down and slumped a little, wishing somebody besides Charmander had seen it.

Peering closely to the pokéball, he gently shook it twice, triggering semi-translucence. Nidoran remained curled up within, licking its shining burns. Remora dug into the backpack the professor had given him and found a pouch busting full of medicine. He spritzed the Burn Heal, then the Potion, onto the pokéball; the solutions passed through the porous surface, and Remora watched the Nidoran immediately brighten up.

“Come on out, then!” Remora said. Nidoran emerged, only for the two pokémon to immediately glare at one another with suspicion. 

“Now, now,” Remora said. “We’re all friends now.

Charmander shot a resentful glance at its own tail. Nidoran glanced between Charmander and Remora before sidling up to his trainer’s leg and licking it affectionately. Charmander’s entire color darkened.

“Now, now,” repeated Remora, taking Nidoran into one arm, and stopping Charmander’s assault with another. They came face to face.

“Nidoran, this is Scrappy,” said Remora. “Scrappy this is… Well, I know what you’re going to evolve to, so how about I give you a strong, royal name. Uh…” He mused over various synonyms for ruler and king. “How about Kaiser?”

Nidoran’s ears quivered and its eyes were bright and wide, which Remora chose to interpret as joy. Setting them both down, he brought out food for both of them. With this keeping them from tearing one another apart, Remora leaned back against a nearby tree and scanned them both with the pokédexes.

Charmander’s tail-flame indicated its life-force, only could be heard in quiet places, and could occasionally burn their own newborns; meanwhile Nidoran’s supersensitive ears could move in any direction, whereas the intensity of their venom could be determined by the size of their horns and barbs. All good to know. Once his pokémon were done, they sat there, bellies bulging, looking too dazed to start anything, so he felt secure enough to make himself a quick sandwich before starting off again.

“We’re heading to Viridian City, Kaiser,” Remora addressed his new pokémon, now safely returned to its pokéball alongside Charmander. “From there, we’re going to Pewter City, to get our first badge! I hope you come to trust me as your new trainer.”

Nidoran cocked its head, looking somewhat puzzled. It probably couldn’t really understand him. Remora attached his balls back against his belt and continued approaching those hills. At their foot he camped for another night and the next morning he continued beneath the dark green shadows of their eaves, through which a gentle breeze passed, carrying with it the smells of leaves and living wood. It cast him into an almost hypnotizing lull for a while, partially because he had set his pokédex’s alarm to earlier than he was used to, having decided to get up at sunrise from now on. 

Remora’s daze continued until he noticed the feel of the ground change. Grass and branches were crunching underfoot. The path had gone, and he stood in the center of the shapeless, aimless forest. Immediately he conducted an about face and ran, but instead of finding his path he had to skid to the stop at the edge of a cliff. Bit of earth crumbled beneath his toes, tumbling far, far below, into a shadowy ravine where distant water twinkled.

To Remora’s left and right trees clung to the edge, their roots thrusting into air through loosening soils and rocks. Further right the ravine carried on, towards high wooded mountains with pale caps and further left the ravine ended entirely, so that Remora was staring straight at the pyramidal peaks of evergreens. 

Remora’s heart pulsed in his throat. He stepped backwards as carefully as could be done. Then he heard a horrible screaming noise up above. In the tree just behind him a horde of Mankey clung to their branches, shaking their fists. A pinecone struck him full in the face. He closed his eyes against the pain, falling on his back, and he heard one land lightly before him.

Remora flailed at his belt, hurling a pokéball at random. After blinking a few times, he saw Charmander fighting Mankey. Hastily he uttered a command, and embers scorched Mankey’s nose. It squealed, rushed back up to the trees, and the pack rapidly drummed against their tree’s trunk. Far in the forest, Remora heard something hulking stamping towards them.

Remora did not stay and fight. He knew he had strayed far from the right road, to a place a trainer like him should not have gone. Instead he withdrew Charmander and ran along the ravine. A gloved fist decapitated the tree beside the Mankey’s and cast its leafy head down below. Primeape, snorting steam, stampeded towards him.

All Remora could do was run blindly, doing everything he could not to stumble over roots and irregularities, without even thinking to look back. The cliffside collapsed as Primeape by; the Mankey scattered as their own tree was taken with it. Ahead Remora saw an old log stretching to the other side.

Moving far quicker and expertly than he had ever done so in his life—in childhood romps, he had always all but tiptoed across logs that served as makeshift bridges—Remora reached the other side and collapsed. Primeape glared across the beach, then severed the log with one swift chop.

Remora sighed in relief, even though he was now trapped. At least he was safe. Then Primape crossed the ravine with a single leap. Remora crawled backwards, unable to think, as the Primeape raged in front of him. For a few moments it seemed content just to dance in place, swinging its fists and chanting shrilly, until suddenly all that ended. Its erect, pointed ears drooped. Primeape crouched. Remora listed to it snort and sniff, huffing against the ground. It bounded back from where it came and ran back into the forest without the slightest glance back.


	3. Egg Hunt

After some hesitation, Remora made camp on that very spot, and slept without trouble. Now he had no choice but to continue on this side of the ravine and see where it took him. There was only a narrow strip of earth between the open air and a high sheer wall of stone, so that it seemed as though the hill had been sliced in half in the prehistoric eras. Shrubs and grasses grew far sparser here than they had on the other side, so there was little to attract pokémon.

As he carried on further, he felt safer than ever, and even allowed himself to enjoy watching the pokémon that inhabited the other side. Herds of Nidorina and lonely Nidorino were the most frequent sights, as well as slithering Arbok, far more enormous than pictures he had seen had ever communicated, who flashed their colorful hoods menacingly at him, so that he was infinitely grateful the Primeape had driven him to this place. A pokémon he had never seen before, which the pokédex called a Machamp, was strolling casually before spotting him, jumping as if startled, then ran off making frantic cries. Remora picked up the pace. However, the ridge he traveled naturally descended downward in a gradual slope, and there was nothing to watch beside the sheer red-brown canyon walls, down which descended curtains of verdant shrubbery dotted with pale white and blue flowers, as well as sweet honey-suckle.

The ridge in time touched the canyon floor and Remora was confronted with the vast, thrashing river he had seen from above. Several rocks jutted up at angles from the riverbed, stirring up great flashes of foam, spreading a thin mist. The trees here were well spaced out and did not grow higher than a story, spreading their bright-green, diamond-shaped leaves in umbrella-like fashion. Remora drank in the air, feeling refreshed, and let everybody out for their midday meal.  
Charmander and Nidoran flared in aggression towards one another as soon as they were out, but then they looked at where they were, sniffed the air, and exchanged nervous trembles. When he set their food out, they stuffed it down as swiftly as they could, and Remora decided to do the same thing. By the end they were pushing themselves onto his lap, their noses pressing against their pokéballs, and his heart felt leaden with the fear their actions filled him with.

Remora reversed course, going downstream, right below the ridge he had just come from. Asides from the rampaging river, Remora heard nothing else, not even the cries of birds, and saw no pokémon until he came to a tree growing against the ravine’s wall, its branches all thrusting towards the river. In a hollow between its thick roots Remora saw a large, pinkish egg, badly cracked, with an entire fragment missing, exposing the bright yellow yolk. It had wide-set, narrow eyes that were part of an apathetic expression.

It certainly wasn’t one of the pokémon common to the regions he knew around Viridian and Pallet. Remora pointed his pokédex, which identified it as an Exeggcute, but the image was of six eggs. This stirred up Remora’s memories of school, where this pokémon had been brought up in lessons about psychic abilities. They lived in groups like these, joined by telepathy, and it seemed to Remora unnatural that it should be alone.

“Hello? Are you alright?” he said. It did not acknowledge his existence. “Why are you alone? Are you sick?” Nothing. “Are you waiting for the others to come back?”

The Exeggcute made no move. Remora looked around warily, then sat besides the tree. “Listen, there’s a lot of dangerous pokémon around here. Maybe I should stay by you until your friends get back.”

It made no exclamations of confirmation, agreement, or gratitude. Regardless, Remora decided to stay with it, and kept to that decision, even as the canyon darkened into an abyss. Remora decided to skimp on dinner for himself and his pokémon, seeing his decision, also chose not to eat. Remora did attempt to feed the Exeggcute berries and water, but it didn’t accept anything. Remora set up his sleeping bag a few feet from the pokémon and slept.

That night, a high-pitched grunting noise, repeating urgently, woke him up. It came from above. The Exggcute was gone and when he looked up, he saw its two eyes dimly glowing yellow. Remora tumbled as his sleeping bag was pulled away from him, forcing him out, and he watched it lift higher and higher until it looped around one of the tree’s branches. Once that was done, Remora immediately felt himself also rising, but shakily, and after an inch he fell.

“What are you doing?” Remora hissed. The Exggcute grunted urgently a few more times, then fell silent. Remora heard a heavy, regular series of thudding noises downriver. Finally guessing the Exeggcute’s message, he hugged the trunk and scrambled upwards, climbing until he was next to the Exeggcute. It made excited grunts as Remora’s arrival shook it in place, so he gingerly grabbed the pokémon and held it close to him.

Remora held his breath as an enormous, bipedal shape stomped along the riverbanks. The pokémon took four or five steps before raising its sharp snout, taking a deep breath, then carried on the pattern. As it approached the tree, its head jerked in their direction. Exeggcute shivered violently in Remora’s hands.

The pokémon approached the tree and sniffed deeply at the point where Exeggcute had waited. Remora could dimly perceive the shape of a thick, damp tongue extend and lick the edges of its hard-edged mouth. Remora thought he now understood what had happened. Freeing one arm from the Exeggcute, he grasped blindly until his fingers closed around a bundle of berries.  
Remora hurled the object upriver with all his might. It landed with a slight noise, which the strange pokémon picked up on immediately, and charged towards. Remora listened to the earth break and shattered beneath it, and the deaths of the trees it left in its wake. The cacophony carried onto for a long time, growing dimmer as it grew distant, and Remora did not know when he succumbed to an unhappy and fretful sleep.

When he awoke, his whole body ached, and Exeggcute had returned to its spot on the base of the tree. Sharp pains shot through every spot of him that moved as he made his unhappy way down to the ground, and he spent several minutes performing stretches, which only hurt more.  
Remora let out all his pokémon for a quick breakfast. They ate with the same swift nervousness as before, but this time Exeggcute accepted some water and berries.

“I don’t think your friends are coming back,” Remora said with cool sullenness. “Listen, I think you should come with me until we get somewhere safer. Is that okay with everybody else?”  
The pokémon offered no opinion. There were two water-bottle pouches on either side of his backpack, but of course he was only using one, so he slipped Exeggcute into the other. It was a perfect fit.

Rhydon exploded from a cluster of trees upriver, tearing them to pieces as it thrust its head forward, roaring. They all froze for an instant, then ran with everything they had.  
The footsteps beneath them felt like a long earthquake. Remora involuntary bounced high into the air as if the earth was trying to buck him off, and barely managed to keep on his feet. The pokémon, naturally fled far faster than him, and in their blind panic were about to leave him behind. Suddenly, they darted to the right, and Remora watched them vanish into a small, dark cavern mouth, just his height. Remora dove into it and discovered a tunnel leading further in.

Rhydon crashed into the stone and beat it with its fists. Remora scrambled to feet and ran forward, nearly tripping over his pokémon, which had turned their heads to look for him. A shrill, whine of Rhydon’s drill began. With no other option, they hurried forward, as the tunnel curved to their left. Ahead they saw several smooth and jagged shapes; Sandshrew and Sandslash running towards a source of light.

The horde escaped out of another cavern opening before turning around and scaling the canyon walls, stabbing into the stone with their enormous claws. The juvenile Sandshrew clambered onto their elders’ backs, instinctively avoiding the spine’s sharp edges, and held on tightly. Remora took a step towards a Sandslash, and it bristled angrily. They were further down the river, but not much further. Just around the bend, the noise of the Rhydon’s furious assault on the cavern came closely and clearly.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” squeaked Remora. “We’re not supposed to be here! Not supposed to be here!”

Rhydon, a Rhydon? Who in Kanto had not heard of Rhydon? Who had not seen those statues in front of every gym or other pokémon establishment, or its images pasted to every related to pokémon, true to its status as the Indigo League mascot? Who did not know of its incredible power, or the incredible difficulty of even raising one from a Rhyhorn? Rhydon did not live in civilized places, only in the most extreme and violent of wildernesses.

Remora did not belong here.

They continued to run. It hurt Remora to breathe and the air seemed to burn as it passed down his throat. Remora heard the quaking begin again. It would catch up with them. There was no way of getting around it. Either it would drill through the wall and follow the tunnel, or it would guess at the tunnel’s destination, and just head straight for them.

Remora stared around frantically, seeking any sort of shelter or escape, and noticed a large promontory thrusting into the river. Bits of mud and rock dribbled away as the river battered away. A panic-driven plan sparked to life, with hardly any thought put into it, but he gathered his pokémon around and laid it out.

Rhydon stamped up the shore, snorting and sniffing, and its eyes found Remora standing straight in front of it, holding the desired Exeggcute in his arms. Its thick tongue licked its mouth once more and it continued on, only for its face to be struck with a small, painful burst of heat. Rhydon squinted, roaring in rage, and heard Charmander’s feet pattering swiftly away.

Rhydon’s nostrils twitched and its head turned, following Remora as he ran up the promontory. Its eyes still closed, its ran forward, head bowed as its jaws champed. Remora stood at the very edge of the earth, the river’s full force just inches beneath his feet, and stared, vampire-pale, at the rushing monster. At the last moment he closed his eyes and jumped as hard as he could, past Rhydon and back onto solid land.

Rhydon stopped, nose twitching, and as it spun to follow the scent the ground shifted beneath it. Rhydon froze, suddenly uncertain, and Nidoran charged from its hiding place in a patch of high grass, jumping backwards and striking the promontory for its powerful high legs. It struck twice, as hard as it could, and rebounded right over Remora.

Rhydon uttered a surprised groan as everything beneath it collapse, swallowed whole by the river, and it sank immediately. Remora collapsed backwards, tearful and disbelieving, so very, very grateful he was alright. Against impossible odds and an undefeatable foe, they had just barely managed to—Remora watched a gray hump rise in the water.  
It continued on, downriver, stout limbs paddling forward until it found the shoreline. Rhydon clambered onto dry land and shook the water from its plating.

The Rhydon could swim?

Why could the Rhydon swim?

Why could the Rock/Ground-type Rhydon, with a quadruple weakness to the Water-type, swim?

Rhydon leered up the river towards them and approached at a leisurely, prideful pace. Remora had no more ideas. He held the Exeggcute close to his chest and felt its fear. Charmander and Nidoran stared up river, then at Remora, before placing themselves in front of him.

“You should probably just go,” he said weakly. “This probably isn’t going to end well.”  
Charmander uttered a high-pitched, continuous cry; its flame burned large and darkly scarlet. Nidoran spines extended as far as they could, rattling against each other. Remora felt Exeggcute jerk powerfully in his arms before it bounced free, sitting at the forefront of the vanguard. It tearfully stared its enemy down.

Rhydon stopped a moment, regarded these new enemies, then continued.

“You really should all just go,” Remora said. “I don’t think I’ve really done anything to deserve this…”

A rapid barrage of embers, venomous stings, and seeds poured from their mouths, breaking against the Rhydon’s heavy plating. It did slow down, but only to just stand there smugly, puffing its chest outward to emphasize how little they were doing to it. For the brief moment Remora perceived a shadow passing overhead.

There was a tremendous impact, and the futile attacks now rebounded against a wall of gray muscle. Machamp grappled with Rhydon, its four arms pinning Rhydon’s two. It bent its enormous head and winked, only to go wide-eyed as a shrill, drilling noise screeched from its chest. Machamp collapsed to the side, a spiraling bruise on its chest.

Rhydon staggered backward, staring at Machamp, and before it could get over the first shock a foot shot forward on a spring, striking Rhydon’s chest hard. It smashed straight against the cliffsides, and Hitmonlee landed beside the Machamp. Rhydon had just started wriggling in place with Hitmonlee’s other legs lashed at it, unwinding and wrapping around Rhydon’s body.

Hitmonlee lifted Rhydon up high, bringing it down like an anvil. Hitmonlee pulled it upward, bringing it to the side in the same place the first kick had thrown it. Hitmonlee lifted it up one last time, swinging it backwards and letting it loose. Remora dived as Rhydon hurtled right overhead, slamming straight into the cavern mouth. It lay completely prone.

Remora heard a sliding noise and followed it up to see a man sliding down the cliff with only his hand and leg placed on it before landing right beside the two Fighting-type pokémon.  
This man was a hulk, darkly-tanned and bare-chested, with heavy curly waves of dark-gray hair falling from his head and chin. Darkly blue eyes peered at Remora above a flat, upturned nose that looked as if it had been broken multiple times through his life. He wore nothing but frayed, dark-brown pants and a white leather belt. One of his broad, flattened and callused feet was missing the middle toe.

“Why, good morning!” he bellowed.

“Good morning,” Remora said.

“That, my friend, is a good example why, no matter how good a trainer you get, you should never underestimate a wild pokémon,” he said, shaking his head, and recalling his Machamp. 

“My strongest pokémon, defeated in an instant! I’ve clearly been slacking off.”

“I see,” Remora said. Beside him, his two pokémon lay sprawled, wide-eyed, and panting. “Um, thank you for helping me.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said the man. “Say, how many badges do you have?”

“Um, none at all,” said Remora. “I’m just starting out.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Then how on earth did you get here?”

“I don’t understand the relevance of the question.”

The man laughed. “Boy, do you have no idea where you are? This is Victory Road! You’ve already gone past four badge checkpoints!” 

Rather shaken to hear this, Remora explained to the man the way he had taken from Pallet Town to reach this point, which only caused the man to laugh boomingly once again.

“So that’s it! You know that path you found, you thought was the road to Viridian? What you found was nothing but an old road between Pallet and the Indigo Plateau. Years ago, back when Pallet was a bigger place, and the trainers there stronger, people used that road all the time. Recently though, people use it less, and nowadays Viridian City is known as the gateway to the Pokémon League. I can’t believe parts of it still even exist!”

“Oh,” Remora said. “That explains a lot. I’m sorry, I guess I’m not technically allowed to be here…”

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine. No trouble at all. Listen, I’m Maxim and I don’t mean to brag, but I’m one of the Elite Four. So long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe and sound!”

“Oooh,” Remora said, in awe at this personage who had come upon him. “I’m Remora.”

“So you’re a brand new, trainer, huh?” Maxim said, and looked at his pokémon. “You’re a good one! I can tell!”

“I don’t feel very good,” Remora said.

“Those pokémon of yours, even though they’ve only been with you for a short time, they stood against possible odds to protect you!” Maxim said. “For most trainers, they would’ve just run off. I can tell that you’re truly a person who treats his pokémon with love and respect. I’m sure you’ll go far.” Maxim looked over him, towards Rhydon. “I’ll leave that Rhydon here. You can come for him one day, when you’re a powerful trainer, and defeat him to show how far you’ve grown! Then you can come and lose to me!”

Remora looked away. “You’re the first person to say anything like that to me.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah,” Remora said. “I mean, my big sister didn’t want me to go. She goes on and on about how most trainers never earn a single badge, and how none of them ever accomplish anything. I guess a lot of trainers come home when they become adults, and try to settle down, but then when they start having children they start to panic, thinking they’re giving up on their dreams, and they leave their families behind. That’s what happened to us when I was only a baby. My sister can’t comprehend why I would want to be a trainer.”

“Hm, hm, well I can see why,” Maxim said. “So, why don’t you just tell me?”

“It’s very simple. I’ve told her so many times, but she always said that wasn’t a real reason.” Remora knelt by his pokemon’s side, petting their heads. They stood up, and licked him. “It’s because I love pokémon. I always have. It’s just… instinctive. I don’t have a reason for loving and wanting to be with them…”

“Well,” laughed Maxim, “there’s no better reason! Listen, Remora, forget about all the stories you’ve heard about those losers and slackers. People who don’t make anything of themselves, well, that happens because they don’t become trainers for the right reason. They do it because they want to be strong, or to be famous. But your reason, that’s the only reason anybody ever needs, and don’t you forget that.”

Maxim gave the Rhydon another look over. “Now how about I finally get you to Viridian City?”  
From that moment on, Remora was safe, and Maxim had hardly guided him for more than an hour when he announced they wouldn’t go any further for the day. In the days after their journey remained as leisurely as it could be. Maxim pointed out unusual and unique formations of rock and they spent a great deal of time observing local pokémon, such as a flock of Fearow and ambling Rhyhorn. One day they simply spent the entire day fishing, and Maxim pulled in a tremendous Seaking bigger than the two of them put together. 

Whenever they came across a tree, Remora always picked up Exeggcute and lifted it in the tree’s direction, hoping for a reaction, only to get nothing.

“What’s with that Exeggcute of yours?” Maxim eventually asked. “There’s supposed to be six of them.”

“Yeah, I know,” Remora said. “I found it all alone. It lost its group, and I’ve been trying to help it. But it’s been days, and no more Exeggcute have come to take him in.”

“Hmm, I know somebody who I think would know something about Exeggcute,” Maxim said. He pulled out a pokégear and made a quick call, which consisted of one question followed by a bunch of brief confirming noises and brief words, ending with gratitude.

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for your friend there,” Maxim said. “The fact is, Exeggcute only form swarms of six, no more, no less. If a new swarm hasn’t formed overnight, that means there aren’t any swarms with openings in the area. And, well, generally when that happens, well, the law of the jungle takes hold.”

“Oh,” Remora said. He pulled out Exeggcute and looked at it. “What if I took it to another area with Exeggcute?”

“Well, sure, but there’s no place like that nearby. They aren’t even that common around here,” Maxim said. “The only other place in the whole region with Exeggcute is the Safari Zone.”

“I see,” Remora said. “Listen, you heard him, right, Exeggcute? I don’t think you’re going to get a new swarm anytime soon…”

Exeggcute grunted.

“Hey, can you come with me?” Remora said. “I’ll keep you safe and sound until we find you a new swarm to live with.”

“You should know that an Exeggcute can only be balanced when in groups of six,” Maxim said. “It won’t be able to fight at all on its own.”

“I don’t care,” said Remora curtly. “Well, Exeggcute?”

Exeggcute wrenched itself out of Remora’s arms, then hopped onto one of the bare pokéball on his belt. It sucked the Exeggcute up instantly.

“Fantastic,” Maxim said. 

Their journey continued, and Remora named his new pokémon Marx. Maxim took him to a trail that lead steeply upwards along some hills, then at a fork in the road, they took the one Remora was almost certain lead away from their destination. That being said, he no longer had any confidence in his navigational abilities, and said as much.

“No, no, you’re right,” Maxim said, “But you need to see something before you go.”  
The trail lead up a great shelf of stone and Maxim pushed through dense barrier and vegetation before it all suddenly gave way to the edge of a cliff.

The reddening sunk was sinking into the west, lapsing between the jagged silvery mountain peaks, flashing orange against the five great waterfalls, descending one after another, from the food of the great plateau. Its sheer smooth sides shone in streaks and shades of indigo painted by the unique mineral makeup of the place that had fascinated the human imagination for countless year. Vast domes, painted in pokéball fashion, swelled atop the Indigo Plateau. Remora’s body tingled at the magnitude of what he was seeing, that he had never seen before in anything but pictures.

“There it is,” Maxim said. “The Indigo Plateau. The Pokémon League. You’re gonna go there, one of these days, and I’m gonna be waiting there for you.”

Remora was reluctant to stray from the sight, and so they made camp there for the day. Letting out all his pokémon so they could see it, too, they could hardly look away from it until it became too dark to see, and if it had not been the new moon they may not have looked away at all.


	4. Trainer House

Remora’s journey alongside Maxim came to the end once they passed through a large building of purple marble and fluted columns. The guards, with their backs to the rear entrance as they watched the front, sprang up, startled, as Maxim hurled open the heavy stone doors carved with the swirling, almost abstract rendering of Moltres.

“You boys need to set up something along the Old Pallet Road,” Maxim said, without concern or temper. “This poor kid went straight to Victory Road without even knowing it.”

The guards, cringing and pale-faced, made repetitive apologies, to which he paid no mind, while shooting furtive glares at Remora himself for the trouble. The interior of the checkpoint was a large open area with extended counters encircling computers and various machines, like islands. Every four years, this place would be a frenzy of activity on account of Indigo League registration, and that time was coming soon. Registration would open in just a month or so and the Indigo League would begin in September. It was a straight shot through the building to reach the front doors, where Maxim stopped.

“Now all you have to do is go straight down the road and you’ll reach Viridian easy,” Maxim said. “I’m afraid I need to get back to the plateau, so this is where we part ways. Besides, you don’t want any of the other trainers seeing you, a newbie, with a big-shot celebrity like myself. That’ll just encourage bullying.”

“I won’t get lost this time!”

“I’m sure you won’t.” Maxim’s hulking body crouched, and he thrust his broad, spade-like hand towards Remora. As they shook, Remora found, strangely enough, that the calluses tickled. “It’s been fine meeting you. I’ll see you in four years. Promise?”

Remora grinned. “Promise!”

Maxim vanished within an identical set of Moltres-etched doors, and the sullen silence of being bereft of human company settled chillily over Remora once again. The wind whistled by as Remora looked down the desolate, barren Route 23, where an irregular rocky rock wove between broad beige patches of tall grass. A black, still pond spread darkly along the road’s north. No trace of Viridian could be seen on the horizon, so it would be another few days before he finally reached civilization. Fortunately, he had just enough food to make it that far, since Maxim had shared some of his.

Remora spared little interest in the pokémon of the route, being too fatigued mentally and physically to contemplate battling or catching, and the same could be said of his pokémon.. Only once was he briefly tempted, when an enormous flock of Spearow had set down to peck and scrabble at the ground for food right next to him, but their numbers made it too risky.

As he traveled, he began to realize the weight of the promise he had made to Maxim, made without thinking. It did not merely mean he would have to gather all eight gym badges in a mere swift three years, but also that he would have to compete against hundreds of other trainers in the Indigo League and attain total victory against all comers just to reach the Champion’s League in order to challenge Maxim. Depending on how they ordered it, Remora would even have to defeat other members of the Elite 4 just to reach Maxim.

Remora’s pace sagged as he reflected on the nigh-impossibility of his foolish promise, and it took him a full extra day to reach Viridian City beyond the average of three.

At long last he trudged into town at midday and his pounding feet ached all the more as he had to force his way up and down its hilly terrain. Remora paid little mind to anything, but signs and maps posted, guiding him to the pokémon center. Once he had known the way, but now he had grown too tired to remember it.

Walking past that fountain where he had been found did not even pass that familiar shiver through him, like that of walking over his own grave, as it once had. Fortunately, the Nurse Joy attending the center had changed in those years—the one that had found him had been given a promotional transference of post—so this one would not know his sister or his family situation. She greeted him in the standard way she greeted all trainers.

“I’ve been out on in the wild for a while, I got lost, so my pokémon are probably really fatigued,” he said to her as he placed them on the tray. “Fortunately, we never ran out of food, so I’m more worried one of them might be sick or badly stressed.”

“Don’t you worry, they’re in good hands,” she said. Remora enquired after a room, and she gave him a key for one on the second floor. Remora stared blankly at the stairs, then meandered over to the elevator. Remora found his room, flung himself into the blissfully soft mattress, and sank into a deep slumber.

When he awoke it was still daylight and he had no idea how long he had slept. Downstairs, glancing at a screen that displayed the weather, date, time, and various local headlines, he discovered he had been out of it straight through the day before and most of the next, and it was half-past three.

“You really were exhausted!” exclaimed Joy when he arrived at the counter. “I’m glad to tell you that your pokémon are perfectly fine after a good night’s rest with us.”

“Thanks, Nurse Joy. Um, I’d like to make a phone call…”

“Of course.” Nurse Joy pointed to the corner to his right. “All our video-phones are right over there.”

“Thanks again.”

Remora sat at one and, after a moment’s hesitation, dialed up Professor Ashes. It rang for a while before he picked up.

“Oh, it’s you,” the professor said, bushy eyebrows wagging. “Here I’d thought I’d already lost you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for. So, why have you only chosen to contact me just now?”

Remora explained the circumstances of the last three weeks. Ashes’ eyebrows wagged continuously in widening surprise.

“Rather remarkable. Not impressive, but remarkable,” Ashes said. “Would you mind putting your pokédex in that slot right there?” Remora did so, and Ashes turned towards a nearby computer monitor. The light of the text image shone onto his face; the lab was dark, curtains drawn. “Quite an impressive array of sighted pokémon for one at such an early stage in your journey. You should have caught that Rhydon, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, I doubt Maxim would’ve let you, although he should…” 

“Um… about my sister…”

“Fortunately, she’s not really my problem, although I hear she’s been out looking for you. I’ve never had much to do with her, after all,” Ashes said. “I’m in the dog house with my daughter, though. She’s stopped cooking my meals. I’ve been living on takeout.” Ashes grew surly and glared. “I hope you work hard to make this worth my while.”

But didn’t he just say my sister had nothing to do with his problems? Remora thought. 

“Whatever you do, don’t do what I did. When I left on my journey I immediately teamed up with my brother, who knew how to cook, and then when I got older, I started dating trainer girls who knew how to cook until I got married to the last one and retired to become a professor. I never learned how to cook.”

“I promise I definitely won’t do anything you just described.”

“My oven is malevolent. No matter what I do, it merely dispenses smoke and charcoal.”

Smiling apologetically, Remora tried to shift the subject.

“So, how is everybody else doing? Are they still in Viridian City?”

“They all made it to Pewter about a week ago.”

“Ah… of course…”

“None of them have earned any badges, of course,” said the professor, “but that’s to be expected. I doubt any of them will any time soon.”

“There’s just one more thing, professor,” Remora said, releasing Marx onto the desk. “I have this Exeggcute here that wasn’t able to join with a new swarm. Are you keeping any Exeggcute that could take it in?”

“I’m afraid not. Swarms like that only exist in the wild and only very briefly,” said Ashes. “That being said, I’m pretty interested in studying a lone Exeggcute. It can’t fight. Perhaps you could send it to me?”

“No, thanks.”

“Hm. As you like. Well, if that was just one more thing…”

The Professor’s disgruntled image winked out.

Remora sighed, mildly depressed by the professor, decided to leave the center. Immediately outside he turned left to a humble sandwich shop his sister liked and had his late lunch there, with his pokémon eating at his feet. His eye could not leave the fountain, wondering which exact spot his mother had abandoned him at. Once finished, he was glad to leave.

At a local ATM, Remora extracted a percentage of his secret savings, then spent the rest of the day stocking up. When he received his surprise gift from the Professor, he had hoped he could delay this until at least Pewter, to save a little, but his gross navigational incompetence had dashed that dream. It was a boring, waste of a first day in Viridian City, but his plans for the next were bigger.

Viridian City was famed for its trainers, being the gateway to the Indigo Plateau, and the city was already stirring in response to the upcoming Indigo Conference. New tourist traps were blossoming in flimsy, clearly temporary buildings and through its windows Remora could see long lines forming in the Pokémon Association’s local office. He ignored all those, however, and beelined towards a broad, shield-shaped hill on the west side of town. At its top a large building, half-cloaked by trees, emitted smoke from its red-brick chimney.

Remora followed the road up the hill’s slope, straight to the top, to a three-story log building spread across the hilltop with its roof painted leaf-green. He found a plaque set on a plinth of stone reading “Viridian Trainer House.” This was a famous gathering place, with various benefits for membership, including lodging far fancier than that at the center. On the far side were court yards designated for battles; inside were a café, lounges, a small pokémon-informational library, and various other services and hang-outs.

Stepping inside he immediately smelt the dense, woody smell common in houses like these and a female attendant at the front desk immediately beckoned him to sign the guest book. Past it he found a large living room, with plush red and green couches and chairs angled towards a television set in the wall, on which a fight broadcasted. The first and second floors were open to one another, with an interior balcony overhead, against which some trainers casually leaned as they watched the battle.

The watchers made little notice of his entrance and Remora went straight past him, through glass doors that opened into the large backyard. A high, green picket-fence enclosed several pokémon battle arenas, each themselves enwrapped by an iron mesh. Small pokémon, starters and pokémon common to the area, fought within.

Remora could see that unlike in Pallet, Viridian City had no shortage of new trainers, from all the fresh Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle to be seen. Pairs were lining up outside the entrances, waiting their turn, and Remora couldn’t find anybody open. Most unoccupied trainers were pressing up against the fencing of the far courtyard, watching the fight inside.

Remora joined them; inside, two trainers his own age battled. One was tall, brown-haired, with an athletic build and cocky swagger; the other was small, slender and slouching, with resentment etched in everything from his small, green eyes to his crooked mouth to his poor posture. The fighting pokémon were a Gloom and—seeing this nearby made Remora fall over—a Dratini.

Dratini’s thick tail slammed against Gloom, tossing it hard against a fencing. Dratini’s face was clouded with a grim, scary expression, but Gloomy just reacted vacantly, slowly taking steps toward it before being stricken again.

“Amazing isn’t it?” said a young girl beside him. “That’s Boaz. That Dratini was his first pokémon. They say his Dad spent two years in the Safari Zone searching for it, so his boy would start out ahead.”

“I heard he started training at eleven because it took so long,” said a boy, “but he’s already got four badges after only two years.”

After two more violent slams, Gloom again took a few steps forward, only to fall on its face. Boaz smirked and swaggered to the crowd gathered against the fence behind him, who cheered. His opponent, face directed straight at the ground, joined him. Boaz pointed at another member of his entourage, a short plump boy with a bright, guileless face. He wobbled in excitement as he entered the arena.

“The first one was Aspen, and that one coming up is Anak,” said the girl quietly. “They’re both his closest teammates. You should watch out for them, if you ever bump into them in the forest; they can be kind of mean.”

“Why are trainers with so many badges in this part of the world? They should be in Saffron or Celadon.”

“Apparently, Anak and Aspen only have one badge each, so he’s training them up to get the one at Pewter.” The girl looked furtively at them, then looked away. “So, I’m Shirley. What’s your name?”

“I’m Remora,” he said. “Hey, you want to battle?”

“Umm…” She looked askance. “I don’t know, I just started out.”

“So did I,” said Remora. “I look older, but I only just started. My family made me start late.”

“Oh, did they?” she stared shrewdly at him.

“What?”

“Sorry, that’s just a story a lot of older trainers pull to con out newbies. Someone did it to me yesterday.” She turned glum. “I’ll fight you, but not for prize money.”

“Fine by me,” Remora said. “Even if this girl had not been as new as him, Remora would have felt bad about taking money from someone younger, any way. “Looks like that’s one’s about to open up.”

In moments, the last battle had finished, and they took their positions. Remora heart beat in excitement, knowing this would be his first true pokémon battle.

Still feeling hesitant about battling someone younger than him, he sent Charmander out first. “This is our first real fight, Scrappy! Try hard!”

Unfortunately, it turned out she had chosen Squirtle. “Go on, Foamy! You’ve got this!”

Squirtle shot out swift, short bursts of bubbles, but Charmander’s tail flared as it endured them burst across its chest. It ran forward, battering Squirtle’s head, but the Squirtle withdrew. Charmander spit embers against its shell, but bubbles erupted and burst almost instantly, hurling Charmander on its back.

Remora released Nidoran. Bubbles shot from Squirtle’s shell hole again, but Nidoran shot venomous needles from its horn, pricking them from a distance. Once at close range, Nidoran spun around and kicked ferociously with its hind legs. The Squirtle tumbled through the air, and Nidoran leaped, plunging its horn into its lightly-colored undershell. Upon landing, Squirtle spun in a frenzy then flopped onto its back, tongue lolling out.

“It’s alright, Foamy, you did what you needed to do!” said Shirley. A grin, with the slightest hint of devilishness in it, appeared across her face. “Let me show you the very first pokémon I ever found in Viridian Forest!”

Her pokéball whirled high up in the air, opened with aplomb, and spewed out Butterfree. It flew circles in the air, making high piping cries while Nidoran followed it with futility below, finally it looked down, jutted its antennae forward, and blasted Nidoran with a jolt of psychic energy. It flopped over immediately.

“Ah…” went Remora. So, his first battle was his first loss. Kneeling, he stroked Nidoran’s head, before calling it back.

“Well?” Shirley said. “Send out your last pokémon.”

“What? Oh.” She must have seen the third one on his belt. “That one can’t battle. I’ve lost.”

“Can’t battle, huh? Oh well! Yippee, Wiggles! We won!” The Butterfree danced frantically about its trainer, before returning to its pokéball. “You lost, but you’re still pretty good. You just couldn’t do anything against Butterfree.”

“Yeah,” Remora said, although, secretly, he disagreed. If Nidoran had come out to defeat Squirtle first, Charmander could have won against Butterfree. After their complete failure against both Rhydon and Primeape, however, this loss seemed to drag his heart down with dreary forebodings for his future career.

“Well, I’m gonna go heal my team then fight someone else,” she said. “Good luck!

“You, too,” Remora said. Perhaps she thought he was going to do the same, but instead he just trudged back to the pokémon center. He could not imagine the possibility of victory. Three weeks had been wasted lost, while other new trainers had gone into Viridian Forest, going so far as to fully evolve their chosen caterpillar pokémon. Remora left his pokémon with the nurse and while he waited, a periodicals rack caught his attention.

Chief and thickest and most treasured of all these, bound between orange-and-red covers with bold black print, was the PA Journal, PA being short for Pokémon Association. This periodical was the monthly, official publication of no less a higher authority than the association itself. Like almost everybody who read it, he immediately leafed to the 10,000 List, where the strongest trainers in the world were listed by name, number, and origin.

The top five hundred or so consisted almost entirely of blank slots—on account of somehow there never being a trainer with the correct level to be #351, but somewhere there was for #350, #275, and #12—or trainers that had been dead for a century or more, with names of Maud the Merry or No-Tooth Tigorum. There, at the absolute apex at #1, reigned the enigmatic Ilex, the only man ever acknowledged by the Association of having earned the title Pokémon Master.

Less the association itself, but, rather, the Listing Committee, a group of ancient men and women far past their retirement age, and perhaps the group most hated by all pokémon trainers in history. They jealously guarded the top five hundred and refused recognition to even the greatest trainers. There was one trainer, possibly living and definitely modern, popularly believed worthy of the title Pokémon Master.

This man stood all the way at the bottom with a question mark instead of a number, referred to only as Former Kanto Champion Dae. This strange person, whose photograph was said to be worthy hundreds of thousands, became Kanto Champion sixteen years ago, then abandoned his post twelve years ago, leaving the seat vacant, and the Association furious. They had never been willing to officially number him when he was active and upon his disappearance the question mark remained their only acknowledgement of his power. Remora often dreamed of stumbling by chance in some wilderness, one day when he was a great trainer, and perhaps receive some transcendent training knowledge from him.

Remora’s finger traced the list, but he found little change since last month, although it would undoubtedly come once the Indigo League results stirred the pot. Remora felt this list important, as he would regularly check the lower numbers for new trainers originating from Pallet Town, Viridian City, or even Pewter City. Remora hoped that he had been named after one, either, or even both of his parents—perhaps through combining their names, like that one kid down the street—and sought any similarity between newly-ranked trainers from his home territory and his own. Remora never found any, however, and this time was no different.

Remora set the Journal back and considered the rest. The newspaper had a headline regarding preparations for the upcoming League. Remora was in the middle of deciding between Pokemon POP! or the Ttogas Elite Handbook when the nurse announced his pokémon were good as new. Instead of leaving to train, he went up to his room.

At his desk he unfurled paper and pen and began to write. The letter was addressed not to his sister, but to that Nurse Joy who had discovered him so long ago, at her new position at the Mt. Silver Pokémon Center. He had been corresponding with her, with Sarai’s encouragement, since before he learned how to read or write. As a toddler, he had dictated.

Remora first apologized because he would not be able to respond to her letters very much anymore, since he would be wandering all over the place. However, he asked her to keep writing, because he would be able to look forward to reading them when he returned home. Of his lost three weeks and the rift between him and his sister, he made no mention. Remora promised that if he ever decided to settle somewhere for several months, such as Celadon or Saffron (as many trainers were wont to do at a certain point of their gym challenge) he would tell her, so she could write back. He described his pokémon, their personalities, and even scribbled little sketches of them. He expressed worry about Marx but hoped it would turn out okay. Remora scribbled down a flurry of half-truths and outright lies about his journey, not meant to make him seem like a better trainer, but to keep her from being worried.

With the letter finished and sealed, he decided to deliver it tomorrow. Night had fallen. Remora flung himself to bed on his stomach and pressed his face against the pillow. With his day completed, he was alone with his thoughts. They came, overwhelming and dark, twisting like a vortex through his mind, image after image flashing past: lost in the wilderness, the doomed promise, Ashes’ cold face, Exeggcute all alone, proud, powerful Boaz, Nidoran and Charmander defeated.

There was nothing to be happy about. Remora wanted to see his sister. Remora wondered how her attitude towards him would change, day after day of this long betrayal, and he clung to his pillow and cried against it.

Remora heard little popping noises. Charmander, Nidoran, and Exeggcute had let themselves out onto the mattress, and pressed themselves close to him. Giving them each a tight hug all at once, he slipped off his shoes and climbed under his sheets. Charmander curled right around his legs, Nidoran lay on its sides, spines-first towards the wall, and Exeggcute just popped under the cover, nuzzling against Remora’s side. With them besides them, Remora attained a peaceful sleep.


	5. Kangaskhan in the Mists

The day Remora departed to Viridian Forest, dense rainclouds drifted from the east, occasionally pricking his head with lone raindrops on the road there. When the road swerved right, he kept straight-away, quickly finding a dirt road. The main road would carry on east, turn north, then west towards Pewter, anxiously avoiding the forest entirely. That was the road taken by the occasional vehicle and people without pokémon, but only cowardly trainers took it.

The forest began suddenly, with a barrier of dense bushes, weeds, ferns and other miscellaneous vegetation entangled with the border row of towering oak trees whose highest branches swung with a wind that came hissing from the east and tasted of water. The path disintegrated and just ahead Remora spotted a few trainers gathered around something.

It was Boaz, Anak, and Aspen from the Trainer House, and their unhappy glares were directed towards a sign. Remora heard them loudly complain about rights and unfairness. The one Remora was sure was Aspen turned his neck at Remora’s approach, and he said, “Can you believe this?”

Remora read the sign. Although the wood of its post and board were dark and beaten by the elements, the paper was pale and new. It presented the image of a large pokémon and its young and read as such: “There have been unconfirmed sightings of Kangaskhan within Viridian Forest. Although they are unconfirmed, the Viridian City Police Department would like to remind all trainers that the capture of Kangaskhan within Viridian Forest is strictly forbidden. If you desire to capture a Kangaskhan, feel free to go to the Safari Zone in Fuchsia City.”

“I guess I can,” Remora said. “I mean, I went to school around here, and we’d hear the story of the local Kangaskhan every year. So I can believe it.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Aspen snapped, bristling, and Boaz laughed.

“He’s got you there,” said Boaz. “You should be more careful about what you say. So, you.” Remora blanched a little, fearful Boaz would challenge him with his Dratini. “Tell me the story of the local Kangaskhan. I don’t know it.”

“Oh.” Remora felt relieved. “This is the way they told it in our pokémon class: years and years ago, Kangaskhan did not merely live in the place that would become the Safari Zone, but also in Viridian Forest and Rock Tunnel. In these places they lived in large herds, seeking protection through numbers. However, excessive hunting wiped out their tunnel and forest populations. The few survivors changed their behavior to adapt. Instead of clumping together, they became solitary, and difficult to find. Even so, hunters found them, until catching and hunting them were outlawed. Now nobody really believes there are still Kangaskhan around here. Most people don’t take it seriously if they’re spotted, but I guess the police put up this poster just in case.”

“Even if you can believe it, it’s still just unfair,” Aspen said. “Just because somebody sees a pokémon, suddenly they’re putting up signs trying to tell you what to do!”

“I mean, the rule would still be there even if nobody spotted it,” Remora said. “It’s just a reminder of a law made a long time ago.”

“You’re doing nothing but striking out today!” Boaz said. Aspen flushed and he stamped his feet and gritted his teeth.

“Maybe a battle will shut you up!” he said, lifting his pokéball, but Boaz grabbed his hand.

“Don’t waste your time. You’re just not getting it,” Boaz said coldly. “Think about what the kid said. This sign is just a sign. The rule is just a rule. When you think about it, should either one really change our behavior?”

“Ah,” Aspen said. “Right. I get it now.”

“I always got it!” Anak said. Aspen pursed his lips.

“You just need to change your way of thinking, Aspen, or you’re never going to get anywhere in life,” Boaz said. “So, let’s come on. We’re probably gonna want to go deep.” 

Boaz and Anak left without sparing a single thought for Remora, although Aspen spared one last lingering glare before following. Remora hoped to be able to see Kangaskhan, even if he could not catch one. Remora walked parallel to the forest to get away from where Boaz had entered. Find an avenue of trampled foliage no doubt chosen by hundreds of trainers before, Remora released Kaiser for safety, and followed it.

Within, however, the forest presented no clear and obvious path, and Remora did not really want one. To his embarrassment, he had discovered his pokédex had a compass function, and combined with the also recently-discovered map the professor had placed within his pack, he did not think he needed to fear getting lost anymore.

There was no end to life in the forest. Not an instant passed by when he did not hear the motions of pokémon throughout the canopy, whether crawling among the branches or fluttering against the leaves. The wild screamings of Bird pokémon echoed from far off. Water dripped down occasionally from the leaves above as the mild showers continued throughout the day.

Kaiser’s ears quivered towards the right. Holding his breath, Remora barely perceived the slightest of movements. Keeping quiet, he nodded at Kaiser, who charged.

They thrashed about in the bushes and moments later, Nidoran flung a half-curled Caterpie into the open. Nidoran darted back to Remora’s feet protectively and the Caterpie raised its chubby body, shaking its little antenna. Lime-colored ooze erupted from its bulbous-shaped mandibles. Remora felt his gorge rise from an acrid stench and even the poisonous Nidoran paled.

After a moment’s thought, Remora recalled Nidoran, and released Exeggcute.

“Listen, I know you’re alone, and not able to fight well,” Remora said, “but I think a Caterpie is just the right opponent for you.”

Exeggcute looked down doubtfully.

“I know, I know,” Remora said. “It’s just, I don’t think we’re going to be able to find a swarm for you. I just want you to get stronger for your own sake. What if something happens to me and you’re left all alone again?”

Exeggcute’s eyebrows rose in intense alarm and Remora laughed a little.

“I’m not saying anything is going to happen to me,” Remora said. “But the world is a big place, and all sorts of things can happen in it.”

Exeggcute nodded and turned to confront its foe. Caterpie did nothing but emit its sour stench, which did not do much to Exeggcute, possibly because it had no nose. Its eyes shimmered azure light. Caterpie hovered, struggling in mid-air, before being slammed hard against the bark, where it collapsed.

“See? You can be strong!” Remora said. Exeggcute bounced happily. “Let’s go find some more Bug-types for you.”

Having said this, Remora suddenly remembered Bug-types were effective against both Psychic-types and Grass-types, and nearly regretted his words. Fortunately, it turned out basically none of these Bug-types knew any of their own moves. Next Exeggcute defeated a Weedle handily and although a Metapod caused a slight panic, having launched itself towards them with a surprise tackle, that opened it up for a Confusion, and it could only lay prone for the follow up attack.

With this done, however, Exeggcute flopped onto its side, making hoarse gasping noises as its entire small body pulsed from the exertions. Remora cradled Exeggcute in his arms.

“I guess it’s far more tiring to do things on your own, isn’t it?” Remora said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Here, you can rest for the day.”

Just as Remora grabbed Exeggcute’s pokéball, curved horns thrust from the bushes, clapping together around Exeggcute’s shell. Yelping in shock, Remora felt Exeggcute’s shell slip from his fingers as their enemy back away. A Pinsir stretched its arms instinctively towards its prey only to fall short; Remora reacted in a flash.

“Scrappy, save Marx!”

Charmander emerged, spewing flames. Pinsir toppled onto its back, letting Exeggcute lose, and Charmander hopped on its chest, jumping up and down while breathing fire. Pinsir flipped onto its belly, knowing Charmander off, and ran. Remora ran to recall Exeggcute while Charmander, growling angrily, pursued.

Now Remora found himself tearing through the undergrowth after Charmander tearing after Pinsir, who was making hoarse, panicked cries. Remora jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Charmander’s belly, as the Pinsir carried on.

“Calm down, Scrappy! You won, you won!” Remora said, as Charmander struggled.

They heard a hollow thumping noise. Up ahead Pinsir, in its hurry, had ran chest-on into a lone, large tree in the center of a small clearing. The Pinsir sat there blinking, then stood in straight alert as a heavy object plummeted to its feet. Little scythe-shaped limbs unfolded from the Kakuna’s shell and shook at Pinsir.

Pinsir immediately panicked, looking upwards, and a furious buzzing shivered through the leaves. Pinsir darted around the tree and ran further into the forest as Beedrill took flight from above, swarming densely. Remora watched the cloud of fury pursue the intruder until he could no longer hear them.

Remora spent the next half-hour prowling about the periphery of the Kakuna tree, checking the compass, and writing down landmarks in a little notebook. On its southwest side a pair of boulders thrusted up against each other and most vitally, not far north Remora found a broad, clear stream gushing heartily. Above he heard and saw dozens of Weedle crunching leaves and a few descended by strings near the shore, drinking from little pools splashed up near the water’s edge. This was an excellent nursery for raising young, Remora realized, and therefore extremely dangerous. Still, it made a good landmark.

The discovery of the stream was the most useful discovery of the day and Remora spent a good deal of time scouting and mapping its course, until he discovered it exited the forest on its eastern side and continued under the main road and beyond. North Remora could see a great hump of upturned soil, the northern maw of Diglett’s Tunnel, but he turned south.

Remora returned to Viridian Forest the next day, and the day after that. The weather turned drearier and drearier, with rain pouring freely down the canopy, and a perpetual mist snaked amid the roots even at midday. Remora could never even get the impression of the sun through a paler patch of cloud and day became so night-like at times he needed an electric torch to see.

Exeggcute still seemed eager to train, so he let it have two or three battles a day, but only with Charmander and Nidoran standing guard. They fared far better, fighting far more, with fiercer opponents. Where Exeggcute could only handle caterpillars and cocoons, the others sparred with the likes of Pidgeotto and Butterfree, Venonat and Bellsprout. He caught nothing, even though one of his pokémon couldn’t fight. Handling three already had become a handful.

Charmander and Nidoran, despite making occasional peacemaking gestures, still got into snarling, twisting fights with each other whenever they could. One morning he woke up to find Nidoran tearing the bedpost apart with its horn; apparently, they needed to sharpen their horns regularly or they developed anxiety. Remora bought a good sharpening stone, which it immediately began fighting for over with Charmander, who wanted it for its claws. So he bought a second sharpening stone, on top of having to pay for the damages to the bed. 

Then translucent, dry patches spread across Charmander’s body and Remora took it down to Nurse Joy in a panic, fearing a skin disease.

“No, it’s nothing like that at all,” she said. “Your Charmander’s shedding its skin. Unlike, say, an Ekans, it will do it gradually, in patches. This is actually very good news; this means its growing. That being said, there is a special cream you can apply to make sure the process goes right and nothing gets infected or inflamed…”

Another expense. None of this had been mentioned in the pokédex, so Remora spent one night typing it all in, and the morning after Remora dragged Exeggcute downstairs to inquire about any other obscure difficulties it might suffer from. Nurse Joy came off somewhat put off by his rather sardonic tone, though.

“I can’t say I can think of anything. It’s a plant, not an egg, so be sure it gets plenty of water and sunlight,” she said. “Of course, if you don’t find a new swarm for it soon, it might start developing depression out of loneliness. If that happens, there is a pokémon psychologist who has her office right up the street…”

“Okay, great, thanks,” Remora grumbled. Taking his pokémon off the desk, he set off on what was intended to be the day he would get through Viridian Forest. Now, however, his spirits were so beaten down, he wondered if he could make it. Remora lifted Exeggcute to eye level.

“I don’t want you getting depression,” he said. “So, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ve noticed you really like that water bottle pouch I don’t use, so I’m going to keep you out of your pokéball from now on and in there instead. How does that sound?”

Exeggcute shook so wildly in his hands Remora nearly dropped it.

“Okay, okay! Be careful!” Remora tucked Exeggcute into its favored pouch. “Okay, there you go. Be sure not to fall out, okay?”

Exeggcute made no noise or motion, but Remora knew that just meant it felt relaxed.

Remora’s spirits were rising again as he entered the forest for what he hoped would be the last time, at least for a long time. Having spent the last week charting a good path, he followed it quickly, ignoring the various wild pokémon he heard. Remora had only gone through what felt like the forest’s halfway point, and he wanted to reserve their energy for the unknown. They reached this quickly, swiftly covering familiar ground.

Remora heard a familiar buzzing coming from the left, so he veered right, and stumbled straight another bend of that same stream. The Beedrill probably kept multiple nests, following the water, and Remora wondered if the competition with the Butterfree was fierce, or if they nested differently. The pokédex probably wouldn’t know.

Wading across the stream, he passed through a dense cluster of trees, with barely enough space for him to squeeze through. He almost didn’t bother, but the nearby Beedrill kept him nervous. His foot caught onto something and he toppled forward, planting his face into damp, flat vegetation and soils. Exeggcute made piping noises.

Choking up dirt, Remora pushed himself up, and found Exeggcute had rolled just a few feet ahead. They were in a wide, deep impression in the earth lined with long grasses and leaves, all old and flattened. A powerful, musky tent choked Remora as he crawled forward, slipping Exeggcute back into its pouch. As he stood, he realized this was a nest of some kind. Remora could not think of any pokémon large enough to make a nest like this, except…

Through the trees, Remora heard a distant roar. Remora froze, then ran in the direction of the noise. A flock of Pidget scattered from a tree a few hundred feet ahead as an impact rattled the woods. A spurt of green-blue fire shot through the branches with a bursting noise. The roared repeated, weakened.

Remora ran, stumbling and half-crawling over rocks and roots, until he unexpectedly stumbled into the center of a broad clearing with a small, kidney-shaped pond in the center, a temporarily swelling in the middle of that familiar stream. By the water’s edge a Kangaskhan roared at two triangles of enemies: Dratini, Gloom, and Poliwhirl, each backed by their trainers Boaz, Aspen, and Anak.

“We’ve almost got it!” Boaz bellowed. “Keep aiming near the pouch!”

Dratini spewed blue-green fire, Gloom stinking fluid, and Poliwhirl water-streams at Kangaskhan’s belly; the cub cringed deeper into its pouch as its mother’s arms absorbed the blows, badly bruising its hands.

“Hey!” Remora said. “You can’t do that!”

Boaz turned his face, gritted his teeth into a rictus of a snarl, and flicked his finger in Remora’s direction. Dratini’s attention diverted for an instant, shooting Dragon Rage at Remora’s feet, before firing towards Kangaskhan again.

Remora stepped back, feeling fortunate dragon-fire didn’t actually burn things, and flung Charmander’s pokéball to the ground. “Time to try out our new move! Smokescreen!”

Charmander emerged, its chest swollen, and it disgorged a flood of smoke. It spread across the clearing almost instantly. Remora held his shirt above his mouth as he listened to Boaz’s gangs utter great, hacking coughs. A cool wind passing through the trees quickly scattered the smoke, too late for Boaz. Kangaskhan had gone.

“Dang it!” Boaz said. His red-eyed glare burned in Remora’s direction. “You think you’ve won? That Kangaskhan can never escape! Come on, Dratini!”

Boaz and Dratini pursued downstream as his sidekicks and their pokémon flanked Remora.

“You wasted your time, goody-two-shoes,” sneered Aspen. “My Gloom sprayed that Kangaskhan with a bad stink. Even humans can smell it from a mile away.”

Anak grinned simplistically. Poliwhirl stared at Aspen in irritation.

“Now I’m gonna get you back for the humili—”

“Scrappy, Ember! Kaiser, Peck!”

Kaiser thrust its horn at Poliwhirl’s knees and the fireball struck Gloom head-on. It stood there, smoldering, but barely reacting. Its slimy, silly grin did not even move. Remora clenched his jaw. These pokémon and their trainers were older, stronger, even in comparison to Shirley and her Butterfree. But they had to try, for the Kangaskhan.

Poliwhirl’s Water Gun pursued Charmander and it ran in frantic, random directions, gripping its tail, while Gloom began a frenzied, wild dance, hurling pink petals in random directions. They tore deep gouges through the nearby trees and even the ground. One struck Nidoran, cutting through its side, and Charmander knelt in pain as another slashed through its left arm. The water struck it, hurling it backward, and the water pressure abated. Poliwhirl’s stomach began to swell again. Gloom stopped attacking, and began to stagger about, confused.

Remora spotted froth in the center of Poliwhirl’s stomach. “Kaiser, use Peck on its belly! Thinking of the swirls like they’re a target!”

Nidoran charged forward, leaping into the air and plunging its horn right on target. Poliwhirl’s eyes bulged and it swung its arms in panic as its pale belly continued to swell.

“Hey!” Anak said. “That’s not nice!”

“Gloom, help Poliwhirl!” said Aspen.

The Gloom staggered in Poliwhirl’s general direction. The Water-type’s belly thrust forward, like the prow of a ship, when its wild shakings finally spun Nidoran off. All the water erupted at once, and Poliwhirl launched into the air, spiraling skywards likes a deflated balloon as vast liquid column arced far across the pond, taking Gloom with it. The two trainers ran after their pokémon, shouting their names.

Remora’s pokémon returned to their master’s side, still ready and eager to battle. Together they followed Boaz. Remora’s nose wrinkled as he followed Gloom’s stench downstream and found Boaz with his Dratini and a Pidgeotto launching attacks at a tight circle of trees. Kangaskhan had returned to its nest, squeezing between the trees for protection, but the Dratini’s strong tail struck the plants with such force their roots were ripping out of the earth.

“Stop it!” shouted Remora. Together, he and his pokémon stood between Boaz and the Kangaskhan.

“You again,” Boaz said. “Those idiots.”

Remora looked back at Kangaskhan. “Get out of here.”

“There’s nothing you can do—”

“Marx, use Sweet Scent on Kangaskhan! Scrappy, Smokescreen again!”

A jet of perfumed fluid squirted between the trees and the smoke once again spread.

“Pidgeotto, Whirlwind!”

Pidgeotto scattered the smog, but it was too late. Kangaskhan had absconded.

“You! You! You!” Boaz shrieked. Dratini and Pidgeotto sniffed. “They canceled each other out! I can’t believe it!”

“You can’t catch the Kangaskhan,” Remora coughed. His lungs were burning from two dark doses of smoke. “It’s wrong.”

“Do you see Officer Jenny anywhere?” Boaz said. “One of these days, I’m going to reach the Elite 4! Kangaskhan is an important part of my strategy! With its Scrappy ability, it will be the perfect way to bring down the Ghost-user! I’ll be able to get rid of this dumb, common buzzard!”

Pidgeotto squawked in surprised indignation.

“Listen to me,” Remora said. “If you leave the Kangaskhan of the forest alone, they’ll multiply, and one day great herds will live in Viridian Forest, just like the old days. New trainers will be able to catch and befriend them again without having to worry about hurting them.” 

“Why should I care about trainers of the future?” Boaz stared at Remora with deathly cold eyes. “They’ll all just be enemies standing between me and my destiny of becoming the greatest pokémon trainer in the world.”

At that moment Remora knew he would never get through to Boaz. At the sound of footsteps, Boaz smirked as Aspen and Anak arrived at his side; the former cracked his knuckles. 

“First, we’re gonna beat you up until I get bored,” Boaz said. Over his shoulder, Remora saw a tree by the water, its roots reaching out to drink. In the shadows of its boughs rested Kakuna. “Then we’re gonna tie you up and leave you here. Oh don’t worry, I’ll come back for you. I’m gonna wanna show off my shiny new Kangaskhan.”

“Return, Scrappy, Kaiser, Marx,” Remora said. With his pokemon withdrawn, he dropped to his knees, then stood again, a rock in his hand.

“Really? Reducing yourself to this?”

“You should use Thunder Wave,” Aspen said.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” screamed Boaz. Aspen shrank back. Boaz smirked at Remora. “Go ahead and throw it.”

Remora had never done anything like this before. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Holding his arm back as far as he could manage, he threw it with all the force he could muster. It sailed over their heads.

“Blind and ugly,” said Boaz. “Let’s get him.”

“No,” Remora said. “I hit my target.”

“What, are you stupid, or—”

“I hear something funny,” said Anak.

A thunderous buzzing quivered Remora’s flesh, straight to his bones, as the torrential Beedrill swarm bore down upon them all. A plume of Dragon Rage struck a handful down, but Dratini squeaked in panic as several Beedrill’s forelimbs battered it with Fury Attack from all sides; Pidgeotto beat its wings at the Beedrill, slapping some aside, before falling to the same fate. Boaz and his boys hollered as the swarm swallowed them whole. Remora managed to take a few steps away before stingers pierced him from every side.

~*~*~*~

Propped up by a long branch, Remora took slow, heavy steps north through the forest, his entire body one enormous knot of throbbing, burning pain. He had grown used to blinking out tears and he couldn’t feel his lips. Remora couldn’t imagine what he looked like and didn’t want to. Remora had known this would happen, but he had saved the Kangaskhan. That was the important part. This was nothing but a little temporary pain. Once he made it to the Pewter City Pokemon Center, he would be okay. Probably.

A commotion erupted in the forest to his right, but he couldn’t turn his head. Remora froze fearfully, knowing he would be helpless if it was a Pinsir, or a Scyther, or worse yet, Boaz’s boys. Remora could only tremble as he heard the heavy footsteps of something enormous approach until Kangaskhan stood in front of him.

Kangaskhan came close to him and its pouch rustled with movement. The cub rose up, carrying pink Pecha Berries and blue Oran Berries. Its smiling mother mashed the berries between its paws then spread the juices across Remora’s skin. The pain melted, giving way to a cool, refreshing feeling spread like fire across his skin. In relief, Remora fell to his knees, and the Kangaskhan lifted him. Kangaskhan held Remora against its chest, so that he could feel the deep, rumbling lullaby as it came from its throat, and without thinking at all about the situation, Remora slept.

~*~*~*~

The next morning Remora found himself lying in a soft bed of sweet-smelling flowers that kept him calm. He lay there, dozing, as the warm honeyed sunlight baked his body until at long last a steady, repetitively singing lured him to a full awakening. His bed had been fashioned in the center of a deep impression, freshly made, and when he climbed out of it he found it had not been hidden within the forest but set on a grass hillside right on its northern edge.

The singing that stirred Remora came from both voices both gruff and higher-pitched, and brought to mind a working tune, like the ones Remora had heard farmers sing in their fields. Following it, he soon saw what seemed like saplings walking with a bouncing step. Remora, awed, rubbed his eyes, and double-checked what he saw. That was when he noticed the little green lumps at their base.

Diglett and Dugtrio clustered at the base of the saplings, dragging them along to a space of clear land near the forest’s edge. There they planted them, shifting the earth so it became study enough to hold them, followed by others that balanced earthenware bowls of water on their heads, singing all the while. The Diglett and Dugtrio carried on their business, paying Remora no mind whatsoever.

The old people in Viridian City and Pallet Town had often referred to the forest as “Diglett’s Garden” and now he understand why. Remora patted himself down, discovering little swelling and several painless scabs, so he relaxed, leaning against a nice old tree. Letting out his pokémon, they ate and watched the gardeners toil. The great earthy hump of Diglett’s Tunnel, once so far north, now loomed south.

Once they were done, Remora set Exeggcute back in its favorite pouch and let the others trot at his side. They bickered briefly over who would walk at his right side until he scolded them for being petty. Heading north, Remora could see the road towards Pewter City and barely, just barely, the shape of the city itself far against the horizon.

Remora turned, sparing one last look for Viridian Forest. A great shape moved in the shadows. Kangaskhan, watchful all this time, stepped into the light. Remora waved his arms at Kangaskhan, shouting.

“Thank you, Kangaskhan! I’ll never forget you! I’m going to come back to visit you and when I do, I’ll be a great pokémon trainer!”

Charmander and Nidoran mimed their master, shouting themselves, perhaps making their own promises. Exeggcute jumped out of its pouch and bounced like a ball, not wanting to be left out. Mother Kangaskhan uttered a great, bellowing farewell, followed by a little, shrill good-bye from the baby. Then, together, they returned to the shelter of the forest’s shade.


	6. Pewter City

Stout stone structures, the same color of rust as the beaten stony plain on which they sat, stood strong against gusts of maroon and dun dust. Rearing on three sides of Pewter City, the mountain ranges stood sieved with holes and striped with tracks, all so densely made they could be seen from miles, all hollowed by uncountable generations of hard mining men. Now their descendants loitered about aimlessly in the middle of the day, grumbling at one another, as Remora entered town, and they glared at him.

Remora anxiously followed a series of signs to the pokémon center, which he found seething with activity in comparison to Viridian’s, where the Trainer House swallowed most of the population. This center’s lobby was four if not five times the size, with over a dozen tables and several other sitting and lounging areas, where people and their pokémon socialized away, as noisome as the old school cafeteria. Many of the trainers were not only his age, but older teenagers, and even a few adults

Numerous nurses stood at the counters, serving several machines, and Nurse Joy herself could be seen far beyond the counter, talking to her staff and looking over injured pokémon before they were wheeled into the backrooms. Feeling small and awkward amid the crowd, he carefully navigated the crowd, and managed to make his way to the counter. The nurse took his pokéballs and handed him a numbered ticket, because that was necessary here. He walked through the crowd, head turning left and right seeking some lonely chair somewhere, when he heard something distinctive.

“Oh, Remora! Over here! I have a seat for it!”

Coraline waved him down, patting a red plush stool, one of three surrounding a very small, circular table. Her Pikachu clung to her shoulder, miming her gesture. Remora hesitated, startled, then accepted her invite.

“Coraline, it’s good to see you,” he said.

“Pika-chuuuu!” her pokémon cried.

“Do you have a Boulder Badge?”

She cackled, hand hanging before her face in noblewomanly fashion. “Oh, no, I’ve no interest whatsoever in that macho nonsense.” Coraline pulled out her pokédex and pressed it against Remora’s face: 45 Seen/27 Caught.

“My loser older cousins don’t care about completing the pokédex. Neither of them have caught more than twenty and one of them got seven pokémon, released the sixth member of his party for some silly reason, then never even bothered filling out his team again. I’m actually going to do what my grandfather says and complete my pokédex.”

“That’s great, Coraline,” said Remora, wondering when exactly she had made this decision. 

“Let me look at yours.”

Remora handed it over and her shrewd eyes stared daggers at the screen. “Three caught? Remora, it’s been over a month… You’ve seen a lot. And… oooh? What’s this? Rhydon? Primeape? And—and—you’ve caught an Exeggcute? Where on earth?”

Coraline pinched his cheek. “Hey! What have you been up to?”

“Ah, well,” Remora smiled awkwardly, “I got a little lost on the way to Viridian City and wound up on Victory Road.”

“Ohmigosh!” Coraline blanched, then grabbed his arm for a closer look. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“Well, good.” Coraline leaned back, re-adopting her indifference. “Well, now I feel bad. I’ve been making unflattering comments at your expense on account of your slowness.”

“It’s alright,” Remora said. “I know I’m really behind.”

“So, let me trade for your Exeggcute! I don’t have one yet and I’m super jealous! I spent the last two weeks trying to catch this Butterfree, but I’ll trade it for your Exeggcute!”

“Thanks, Coraline, but…” Remora took Exeggcute out of its pouch and onto his lap. Pikachu hopped down onto Coraline’s lap and extended its paw. Exeggcute nodded. “I made a promise I would protect it until it found a new swarm of its own.”

“Oh, so it’s all alone, huh? That’s… unique…”

“Your grandfather already tried to get him, but I said no.”

“I see, I see,” Coraline said, paging through his pokédex. “Hey, you added more information to some of these pages. Good, good, lots of trainers don’t even know they can add more to the default info. Listen, Remora, I know I said some things in the past. Slightly rude things.”

“Yes,” Remora said stiffly.

“But I was thinking, despite me saying things to the contrary, maybe it’d be best if we did travel together,” said Coraline. “It’s just, this past month, well, I actually teamed up with somebody else…”

“Oh? Then why ask me?”

Coraline uttered a scathing sigh. “It’s just that, well, I need someone to talk to on the road.”

“Didn’t you just say you were with someone?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Hey! Who’s this?” hacked out a caw-sounding voice.

Manta stood over the table, frowning at him. “Manta, remember Remora? Who chose the Charmander?”

“Oh, right.” Manta plopped down onto the third chair, lifting his left leg across his right. “Caroline said you probably got eaten.”

“Ah! Manta! You kidder you!” Remora felt the impact of one foot striking a leg hard through the table. Manta’s jaw very slightly tightened. “Manta, why don’t you get us something to drink while I’m catching up? I’ll take a lemonade.”

“Me, too,” said Remora.

“I just got here,” Manta said, but Caroline handed him a wad of cash, so that his face brightened, and he left them.

“He doesn’t seem all too pleasant,” said Remora.

“Oh, but Remora, he’s just so entertaining. We bumped into each other quite naturally on Route 1 and after a few minutes of watching him, I knew I had to keep him around. The thing, though, is if I don’t have someone more on par with me around, I’ll be driven absolutely mad.”

“Oooh,” went Remora. She had never complimented him before. “Has he beaten the gym yet?”

“Come on, Remora. Nobody’s beaten the gym,” she said. “I’m not even sure he wants to. Honestly, all he ever seems to do is screw around. It feels like all he wanted pokémon for was to make money; it seems like what he’s really interested in.”

“Really?” Remora said. “Oh yeah. For example, he’s probably just gonna buy one lemonade, water it down into two different cups, and keep the change!”

“What?! If you thought that why would you give him money?”

“If I’m right, it’ll be so funny!” Coraline said. “It’s just such a petty, greedy thing for him to do, and the fact that I guessed he’d do it makes it even funnier!”

Manta returned, beaming, and repressing giggles as Coraline and Remora drank their lemonades. Remora’s lips puckered, not from sourness but from the lack of it, and beside him Coraline’s eyes shone triumphantly.

“That’s a generous offer you’ve made, Coraline. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Offer?” Manta said. “What offer?”

“How long are you going to be in Pewter?”

“I couldn’t say,” Coraline said. “However long it takes me to catch all the local pokémon. Jigglypuff, Clefairy, and Clefable are the local grails. My plan is to be here for a long while.”

“Then I have plenty of time to think about it,” Remora said. “I’m going to scout out the gym.”

“Good luck, Remora,” Coraline said. “I mean that without any irony whatsoever. The gym’s just north from here; it sits on top of this ridge twisting west-to-east, so you have to follow the foot of it for a while, then it twists west, then east, like a spiral. It can be confusing for a first-timer. Don’t wind up on Victory Road again?”

“Thanks, Coraline,” Remora said. “I’ll see you around.”

Remora heard Manta asking rapid-fire questions that Coraline laughed off before telling him to drink the lemonade. Remora decided to linger right against the counter until they called his number, and he left immediately. 

Remora followed her instructions, corkscrewing around the foot of a high plateau with sheer, barren slopes of raw black-brown stone. As he rounded the high rock, he could see an elegant and stately collection of buildings with clean marble walls and caramel-color rooftops tucked between a gathering of small hills that sported the only greenery he had seen his entire time there: deliberately crafted lawns with bonsai trees, hedges, and bluegrass. To the left of the main building’s entrance a broad, bean-shaped pond spread perhaps a mile in length.

That was the geological museum, Remora knew, for his sister had taken him there once, and as he reminisced about the experience, he bumped into somebody.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Remora had fallen from the impact, but the one he had collided with remained standing tall and towering over him. It was Anemone, the girl from the lab. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hello,” Remora said, standing. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” she said. An unpleasant, almost predatory grin spread across her face. “Hey, you’re going to the gym, right?”

“Well, yes,” he said. “Did you get a badge?”

Anemone reached into one of her belt-pouched to whip out and flip open her badge case. The first slot on the upper-right contained a badge like a gray diamond seen from above. “I have it here.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Remora. “I’m going to challenge the leader now!”

Anemone’s smile remained unchanged as she tilted her head in such a way that darkened the shadows on her face and her eyes grew cold. “You shouldn’t bother.”

“Uh…” Remora remained smiling pleasantly. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not going to win,” she said in a quiet, even voice. “You have no idea what it’s like to fight a gym leader. Nobody does. Many trainers spend their lives never earning more than two. It took me nearly a month of challenging the gym leader once every other day to win.”

“Well, I don’t mind doing tha—”

“I’ve dedicated my entire life to learning how to be a powerful fighter. While my mom as making me waste my time at school, I flunked every class dedicating every second to learning how to battle. Do you know how long it takes the average beginning trainer to get their first badge?”

“U-um, maybe one month?”

“Two years.”

“Oh,” Remora said. “Well, I’ll admit, none of my pokémon have an advantage against Rock-types, but if it gets too hard, I can always just…”

“If just having a Water-type was enough, then they’d give Boulder Badges out like candy,” said Anemone. “I have Squirtle, but that didn’t make it easy, and I’ve watched others with Squirtle and Bulbasaur, even Ivysaur and Wartortle, and they still lost. Here, let me show you!”

Anemone plucked a pokéball from her belt, flicked it forward, then lifted her long leg to kick it forward, releasing Squirtle. “I’ll show you the strength of someone who’s beaten a Gym Leader!”

Remora frowned, then loosed Nidoran. Anemone did not know the challenges they had overcome getting this far; no other new trainer had to face a Rhydon on Victory Road, none had received approval from one of the Elite 4. Just in Viridian Forest he had defeated not one but three trainers stronger and more experienced them him. If Anemone could defeat the Gym Leader, so could he.

Nidoran ran, horn pointed at the softer undershell, but Squirtle leaned forward as bubbly foam spread from its mouth, snatching up Nidoran in its current. Nidoran kicked and twisted in the suds as Squirtle waded into the mire, took hold of its opponent, and bit down on its body. Nidoran squealed, kicking Squirtle’s face, and knocking them both clear on opposite sides of the foam. Squirtle ran back through, while Nidoran ran to the left, attempting to go around, and at this point both turned to face each other.

A dense furious spray of needles rushed towards Squirtle, who withdrew into its shell and spun, and spun, and spun, so that the momentum carried it towards Nidoran as it scattered the stings away, and a geyser of water erupted from its head-hole, blasting Nidoran onto its side.

Remora sent out Charmander, and Anemone outright laughed. Squirtle stuck its head out to sneer at its disadvantaged opponent and caught fire in its eye. Squirtle wailed, rocking about in its shell from pain, and Charmander swung its tail like a golf club. Squirtle slid on its damp shell like a hockey puck, bashing head-first into a boulder on the side of the road before rebounding hard against the plateau, lying dazed on its back. Charmander bowed its head and rammed the underbelly with all its might. Water splattered from gaps in the shell, and Squirtle uttered a croak.

“Are you kidding me!” Anemone said. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

Anemone withdrew Squirtle and let out a pokémon Remora thought he knew, but he took a double-take, and took out his pokédex. As he thought, it was a Raticate, but it looked different from the standard. It had a thinner fur coat, where the tawny brown seemed to be retreating in favor of the light beige, and its tail and paws were dark gray, enhancing its deep wrinkles.

“Brick Break, Cakes!” Anemone said. 

The Raticate pounced forward and ended it all with a flash of its expertly thrusting forelimbs; before Remora could even react Charmander’s body had been hurled into the air, and came crashing down, a cross-shaped bruise discoloring the scales across half its body. The Raticate crouched in place and uttered a deep wheezing noise. Anemone walked over, stooped to pick it up, and gave it a large biscuit treat.

“This Raticate is my secret weapon,” Anemone said. “I caught it, already-evolved, on Route 23. It’s already super-strong and knows all kinds of moves! The Gym Leader didn’t know what it had coming!”

Remora watched the Raticate wheeze. “It looks… different.”

“That’s because it’s what some people call a ‘shiny’ pokémon,” Anemone said. “They’re incredibly rare pokémon hardly anyone has ever seen before, but they’re very well-documented. If you had dedicated as much time to learning about pokémon as me, you would know that.”

The coloration did not seem all that different from an ordinary Raticate to Remora; just slightly rearranged. Remora had read about shiny pokémon—even had a photo book from a pokémon photographer who had spent ten years running around asking owners of shiny pokémon for permission to take pictures—and Raticate did not seem different enough to be called shiny.

“I don’t think it’s shiny,” Remora said. “I think it looks different because of something else.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Remora felt Exeggcute tense up in its pouch as Anemone’s eyes found it. “Hey, you still have one pokémon left.”

“No, I don’t,” Remora said. “Marx can’t battle.”

“Then why do you even have it? Well, whatever, it would have lost anyway.” Anemone treated her pokémon again before putting it back into its pokéball. “Like I said, you don’t stand a chance, but I’m sure you’ll go anyway. This is probably gonna be the last time we ever meet, since unlike you, I’m moving on to Cerulean City.”

Anemone brushed past him, completely unnecessarily so considering the width of the road, and Remora stared at his pokéballs, feeling desolate. They had just been healed at the pokémon center. With no other choice, he trudged back where he had come, head bowed and trying to look even smaller than usual. He expected to be seen by Caroline and Manta and also to be helped by the same nurse, but neither of those things happened. Remora waited in a small corner of room, facing the wall.

The longer he waited the longer he had nothing to think of but Anemone. Remora had lost to her handily, so how could he think she was wrong? Now Remora found himself vivisecting those confident thoughts from just before the fight. The victory against Boaz had been achieved by taking advantage of the untamed environment, a non-factor in the artificial and regulated form of official gym arenas.

They called his number and he took back his pokémon, then set out on that exact same path he had taken before. Remora thought he could even still see some of his own footprints in the dust of the road. Although the road had not changed, it felt steeper than before, as if a new invisible weight had strapped onto him.

The long, exhausting spiral finally ended at an enormous structure, a tall dome covered with heavy diamond-shaped stone plates each the size of a van. A large billboard stood beside the entrance, automatic glass doors that clashed with the overall aesthetic. It official pronounced the structure to be the Pewter City Gym, displayed various official certificates, minutia such as gym policies and opening hours, and most prominent the name and head-shot of the gym leader.

The Pewter City Gym Leader had a strong boxy head, weathered and tanned from years of hard work, with flinty, easy-going eyes and buzzcut brown hair, and his name was Obsin.

Inside the front lobby retained the stone aesthetic, despite otherwise looking for all the world like the front end of an office building, down to the waiting benches and the secretary lounging behind the front desk. Past the desk stone-double doors lead deeper into the gym beneath an identical pair on a landing above, led to by a pair of aluminum stairways hugging the left and right walls.

“Hello, ma’am,” Remora said. “I’d like to make an appointment for a battle.”

“Sure,” she said. “You’re in luck. There’s only one slot left for the day.”

She pushed forward a clipboard with times and signatures; the aforementioned slot was the four o’clock hour, the last of the day, and Remora signed for it.

“You’re all set. If you want, you can watch the battles from the seating on the second floor until your turn comes around.”

“I think I will, thanks.”

Remora ascended the stairs and stepped into the enormous battle chamber, where several rows of bench seating—all made of flat beige stone—surrounded three sides of the battlefield. Several of the onlookers looked to be trainers, but several also seemed to be ordinary people just here for the show: housewives with excited children, middle-aged men with an interest in the sport, old retirees with all the time in the world.

Down below the arena was made of sandy-colored rock and littered with boulders. Obsin awaited his next opponent below, wearing a green tank top and brown cargo pants about his refrigerator-like build, and they arrived quickly enough, a slender teenager Remora’s age wearing all red, with a fire-dyed mohawk.

“I’m Riley of Saffron City,” said the trainer. “I’m here for my second gym badge!”

Riley held up a flower-shaped badge with petals the color of the rainbow; the Rainbow Badge of Celadon City, undoubtedly.

“Welcome, Riley. Show me what you’ve got!”

Obsin looked towards the referee, a girl Remora’s age much like Obsin. She had braided her inherited, sandy hair and lived the same rough, active lifestyle from her strong, wiry build and tanned body, over which she wore orange denim overalls. She held a pewter flag in one hand and glanced over the competitors through wire-framed glasses.

“Begin!” cried the referee, swinging her flag.

Riley released Horsea and Obsin Geodude; water gushed from Horsea’s horn-like proboscis and Geodude curled up and spun deep into the ground, heaving out great splashes of mud than mixed with the water and brought it to the earth. Geodude bounced forward, punching Horsea hard into the ground. Horsea bounced on its plump, curled tail, desperately dodging Geodude’s fists.

It spouted water again, but Geodude shoved itself off the ground, launching high into the air. Horsea bounced backward rapidly, watching Geodude’s soaring arc and spitting water in hopes for a lucky shot, only to be smashed beneath both fists when Geodude finally landed.

Riley stomped his frustration and let out Weepinbell. The Grass-type whipped its leaves back and forth, launching razor-sharp leaves like shurikens. Geodude curled up tightly, letting the blades cut through it, and Riley’s face brightened with impending victory.

A pale, thick smoke, like from a teapot, rose from Geodude. In the benches two rows ahead of Remora he noticed a very elderly man nodding with satisfaction, letting a slice of his teeth show the beginnings of a grin. Gauntness stretched his skin, his forked, curled yellow beard was all that remained of his hair, and he wore ugly traveling cloths with all the color weathered out of them.

A surge of red energy pulsed from Geodude, knocking out Weepinbell in a single blow. Riley gaped, stunned at the sudden defetea.

“Well,” said Obsin, “do you have any more pokémon?”

Riley gritted his teeth as he released his Vulpix, which opened its mouth to let lose an Ember before being buried in rocks. The referee declared his defeat and he left, head hanging.

These events repeated themselves, in varying fashion, for all the trainers to come. Nearly always they had Water-types, or Grass-types, and occasionally even Fighting- or Ground-types, but Obsin needed nothing but Geodude alone to defeat them. Most handled their fates with glum dignity; a few of the younger, hopeful ones, facing their first gym battle, just cried. Then Obsin would trot across the arena, give them a nice hopeful yarn, and send them on their way feeling a little better. Before Remora knew it, his turn had come an hour early.

After hiding Exeggcute and its pokéball in his backpack—to prevent any confusion about its usage—Remora stepped into the arena. Above the seating had emptied out with the waning of the day and only that old colorless man remained. Remora faced Obsin’s back, as he was crouched over Geodude, applying Potions.

“Sorry, give him a minute,” said the referee.

“It’s fine, this is happening early anyway,” Remora said. “Are you his daughter?”

“Yep! My name’s Tammy,” she said.

“I am Remora,” he said, and remembering how all the others introduced themselves, he added, “of Pallet Town. I have no badges.”

“You’re the second one from Pallet Town today,” Tammy said.

“I ran into the first. She won, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tammy said, sourly. “But I don’t think she deserved to.”

“Now, now, Tammy, that’s no way for a referee to talk.” The leader had finished with Geodude. “So, you’re Remora of Pallet, huh? You’ve been watching for a while. After all that, do you really think you can win?”

“I can’t say,” Remora said, “but I’ll never win if I can never feel how it is to battle you myself.”

“That’s a good answer,” Obsin said. “Go on, Geodude!”

“Go, Kaiser!”

Nidoran turned and jumped backward, kicking at Geodude, who nimbly dodged to the side and swung its fist. Nidoran bounced across the ground like a skipping down, then planted its forelimbs into the ground to launch itself backward, this time kicking Geodude’s forehead twice. In pain Geodude’s palm tore up the ground, striking Nidoran with rocks as it jumped away.

Nidoran landed on shaky legs. It glanced at its master with determination, and Remora gave the order. It ran with full speed at Geodude, planting its horn where its kicks had hit, and was immediately smashed unconscious by single fierce clap.

Remora recalled Nidoran and let out Charmander. It hissed out smoke nervously on looking around. Obsin called for a Rock Throw but Geodude stayed still, coughing and pale.

“Hide behind the boulders and keep moving!” shouted Remora.

Geodude slapped upwards chunks of rock, but too late, as Charmander had hidden behind the rocks. Geodude tried to bounce towards Charmander’s position, only for its target to have darted to a new boulder. At that point, unable to return the damage dealt as it had with Weepinbell, it flopped onto its side.

“Well, well, well,” Obsin said. “Well done! Guess I’ll have to get serious.”

Geodude vanished and the space of the room seemed to contract as a row of boulder spread and curled throughout the arena. At first Remora’s eyes could not take it in—it seemed as if the landscape had changed—until he heard Charmander’s panicking screams and followed its wide, blue eyes to see the hulking head of Onix.

“Scrappy,” Remora said, tongue dry, “use—”

It didn’t matter. Onix plowed its head down and the battle was over. Great plumes of dust and shards of stone rose and scattered and Charmander lay flattened in the crater.

“Ah,” Remora said. The crater was so deep it got in the water of recalling Charmander, so he had to climb into it and cradled its half-conscious form in his arms. “It’s alright, Charmander. You did good. You beat Geodude.”

“Good job, kid,” Obsin said. “You’re just the second person today to beat Geodude.”

Onix uttered a deep, repetitive noise, like laughter. “Now be a good sport, Onix, come on!”

“No, it’s right,” Remora said, climbing out. “There’s no point in beating Onix if I can’t beat it. At the end of the day, Geodude just serves to keep weaklings from wasting Onix’s time, am I right?”

Obsin frowned and tilted his head to the side. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Onix, however, nodded emphatically, and Obsin glared at it again.

“Listen, kid, feel free to come back tomorrow!” Obsin said. “You get one a day, okay?”

Remora did not come back tomorrow; he went back to Viridian Forest and trained his pokémon against the Bug-types there, and between Viridian Forest and Pewter he challenged the Rattata and the Pidgeotto. They were not a great problem, but sometimes they would try something desperately and unpredictable that kept his pokémon on edge.

Remora returned the day after that, early in the morning, when they were fresh and full of breakfast. They made for the first challengers of the day.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Obsin said. “Trained hard yesterday?”

“I did,” Remora said.

“Let’s see how hard,” Obsin said.

Geodude bounced backwards constantly at Nidoran’s approach, hurling back rocks, and refusing to let its enemy close. Its small body badly battered, it refused to back down, craving a victory stolen by Charmander before, but the will could not overcome the body.

Charmander emerged to confront a healthy Geodude. It charged through the embers spouted from Charmander’s throat, blinking them aside, and clapped its fists across Charmander’s skull. Brain rattled, Charmander staggered side to side, and as Geodude’s palm scraped across the ground Charmander flew upwards with the rocks, battered between them before lying crumpled at Remora’s feet.

“Sorry, Remora,” Obsin said. “You may have lost that time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to learn from our last battle.”

Remora felt very cold, especially about the eyes, as he took Charmander into his arms. “Of course. That’s obvious.”

After a visit to the center, Remora sat in the same place as before, and discovered that same old man sitting in the same place as before. They watched the entirety of the day’s battles play out before them. The hours passed, agonizingly slow, and Remora watched intently, so as not to miss a single scrap of information to be gleaned from the battles.

Loss after loss piled up. The other trainers almost always seemed to have brought pokémon specifically captured with type-advantages in mind, unlike Remora, and regardless they always lost. Geodude’s skillful hands countered Machop’s and Mankey’s thrusts, its mud and its Bide vengefully punished Water Guns and Razor Leaves, and it defeated Sandshrew and Diglett at their own games. The sun had begun to set and Onix had gone unseen.

The last trainer left, slumped in defeat, and as Remora got up to leave, he felt a sick, cold curdling in his stomach. Nothing he had watched seemed to have given him any ideas on how to defeat Obsin. Remora had thought about his own pokémon, and of Geodude, all day long, and absolutely no possibilities had occurred to him. He just felt stupid.


	7. Mt. Moon Training

Remora returned day after day to witness continuous defeat, and alongside the elderly man he remained the most consistent onlooker, even though he did not feel like he learned much. Consequently, he never stayed long, remaining for an hour or two at most. Remora believed the old man stayed for much longer, perhaps the entire day, however. Occasionally he was accompanied by a Wartortle with a shell greening over with moss and ears that had grown dark-grey and heavy with the shag of age. A retired trainer, perhaps.

 

One morning, Remora decided not to visit the gym, but to venture east. The land descended between two great shelves of rock whose meandering, beaten walls followed the shape of an extinct river. Weathering had widened the ravine over the centuries and the dark shapes of small fossils jutted here and there. Grass and shrubbery grew only sparsely, and never high. Spearow nested on the cliffs, glaring downwards with angry eyes, awaiting the sight of a vulnerable Rattata or Nidoran.

 

Through the dense haze of dust at the far eastern horizon, Remora could see an enormous hump-shape thrusting towards the sky, the legendary Mt. Moon, whose aged peak had been weathered blunt. The same Rock-type pokémon Obsin used—Geodude and, very very occasionally, Onix—lived there. Fighting them wild would be very different from fighting them trained, but it was a step in the right direction.

 

Remora frequently encountered diggers heading to and from the mountain, sometimes in walking caravans laden with equipment, and sometimes overflowing from truck-beds, swinging friendly waves as they zoomed past. All fossil-hunters, certainly. Remora entertained hopes of finding maybe a small fossil, just to keep as a trinket, but that wasn’t the point.

 

The trainers were the real trouble, after all, for everybody knew the golden rule: If two trainers’ eyes meet, they must battle!

 

Remora had been watching a truck go by, as some of the paleontologists had been holding helix-shaped stones in the air like trophies, and when he turned, he saw a blue cap. Instinctively, he looks down, where a young boy stared up at hawkish, intense eyes.

 

“Why are you wearing jeans?’ he said. “It’s like 98 degrees out. Aren’t your legs just so sweaty?”

 

“Uh-oh,” said Remora.

 

“You should be wearing shorts instead,” he said, shaking his legs and swaying his pant-legs. “Shorts are comfy and easy to wear.”

 

“I’ve heard of you people. I want you to know I find your way of life complete contemptible.”

 

The Youngster extracted a thick catalog from his backpack. “If you lose, you have to buy five pair. We got thousands of possibilities! Millions if you take into account our special customization options! You only have to pay twenty extra!”

 

“No soliciting!”

 

“Too late! I choose you, Rattata!”

 

Remora and the Youngster back-stepped several times, opening a gap wide enough for a fight.

 

“I choose you, Scrappy!”

 

Charmander growled at Rattata, sending a shiver visibly crawling down the fur on the rodent’s spine.

 

“It’s time to show off our ultimate two-shot combination! Super Fang!”

 

Rattata bounded forward, snapping its big buck teeth together across Charmander’s torso. It uttered a high scream, falling to its knees, as Rattata dodged a vengeful swipe. Rattata ran past Charmander and skidded to a stop, tracing its tracks through the dirt, as it spun back towards its opponent.

 

“Finish it with Hyper Fang!”

 

“Look down, use Smokescreen!”

 

The smoke welled upwards around Charmander as Rattata dove into its depths. The two trainers waited with bated breath as they listened to struggle inside the cloud. A powerful wind quickly carried it away, revealing Charmander on Rattata’s back, his two paws pinning Rattata by the back of its head.

 

“Return, Rattata! Go, Pidgeotto!”

 

Pidgeotto, an evolved pokémon, something Remora’s pokémon had never been able to do. In the forest, Remora hadn’t been able to defeat Boaz’s Pidgeotto.

 

“We can do this, Scrappy,” Remora said. Scrappy watched warily as the bird flew fast circles around it, awaiting orders.

 

“Gust!

 

Charmander rose spinning into the air, his tail-flame growing long and tapering, as the air battered him here and there. As the vortex lost its strength, Pidgeotto dove, striking Charmander hard on its way to the ground. It landed hard.

 

“Scrappy, no!” Scrappy’s prone body trembled a moment, then it stood, and uttered a short, determined cry. It glared with determination at its opponent.

 

“Gust, again!”

 

Remora got an idea. Scrappy rose into the air again with the current, this time holding its limbs close to its body, and not panicking, as the attack came as no surprise. At the exact same time as before, the Gust lost its strength, and Pidgeotto dove again.

 

“Now!”

 

Charmander spun its body, swinging its tail, striking Pidgeotto head-on with its flame. Charmander rebounded towards the ground, this time landing on its feet, as the blinded Pidgeotto squawked and fluttered to the ground. Before it landed, Charmander shot a jet of slender fire right into its feathery belly.

 

“No, Pidgeotto!”

 

“We… We did it! Remora stared and gaped at Charmander. “We did it!”

 

Remora lifted his pokémon into the air, fell off-balance due to the weight, then settled for dancing with the little Fire-type as the Youngster fled in disgrace, tossing his blackout money behind him. “You’re going to regret this! Those jeans are going to chafe something horrible! That twenty-percent discount I was going to give you just went out the window!”

 

Remora and Charmander continued on their merry way towards Mt. Moon, and Charmander hardly even noticed its wounds the whole way there. The ravine bent south, into a broad basin where a brief woodland managed to grow, cozied against Mt. Moon’s foothills. The further they went, the more pitted and broken the land became, the wreckage of old meteor showers. They could even see the outlines of old craters, filled in with stamped earth for the ease of travel.

 

The ravine turned north, rising sharply to meet the food of the swelling Mt. Moon, cutting through a series of sheer, step-like ridges. The heat, once nothing but background, finally began to drag Remora down, as sweat soaked his shirt. Remora’s muscles burned with the exertion, and his jeans chafed. Through the ripple of the stone-heated air, he discerned a vague boxy shape against the mountain. Before he knew it, he stood at a Pokémon Center, a cool air spilled out as the automatic doors gaped for him.

 

Remora trudged inside, immediately refreshed just from breathing it all in, and let Charmander back into its ball, feeling almost envious how the heat seemed to have only made it feel better. Remora checked Exeggcute, who seemed to have not been bothered by the trip at all, and withdrew it as well before staggering up to the counter.

 

Although this center looked almost identical to the one in Pewter, its lobby was almost vacant of trainers, with only a few hanging out here and there.

 

Only one nurse, a Joy, served at the counter, typing into her terminal as he approached, and her Chansey took the pokéballs for her.

 

“I’ll have your pokémon fixed up in a jiffy,” she said.

 

“Thank you, Nurse Joy,” said Remora. “Is the changing room in the same place as the one in Pewter?”

 

“Yessir,” she said.

 

Remora wiped himself down with a towel and changed clothes but did not shower; he would just be getting sweaty and dirty in the caves again, after all. This time he put on a set of shorts and hoped that Youngster wasn’t on his way to Mt. Moon.

 

The pokémon were ready once he was finished and, on his way, out a rack of booklets caught his eye. Not free periodicals; they were guidebooks for sale, with subjects on a variety of topics and included _The Pokémon of Mt. Moon and the Kanto Northwest_ and _The Pewter Tour Guide._ Since his pokédex seemed useless unless he caught the pokémon themselves, he chose to purchase the former. There was also a very thick book called _The Kanto Experience_ that looked like it would be very useful, but it cost too much. Remora’s savings were not inexhaustible, and he had not won much lately; that Youngster hadn’t given up much money. Fortunately, Obsin refused to take money from defeats, even though he gave it out. If Remora ever beat the gym leader, he would treat himself with _The Kanto Experience_.

 

After giving Nurse Joy the Money for his purchase, he was blocked from leaving yet again. A loud, hoarse hiss came at him from some shadowy corner of the Pokémon Center and he followed it. There stood a skinny man dressed in white with a sparse moustache and a  curious white band wrapped around his forehead. The delight on his face seemed decidedly mean, but not intentionally so. One bony arm was wrapped around an aquarium he had placed on the widow-side table, where a Magikarp lay prone against the glass corner.

 

“Boy, have I got a deal for you!” he said. “I’ll let you have a swell Magikarp for only P500! What do you say?”

 

“I know what a Magikarp is,” Remora said. “There are literally millions of them living in the sea by my house. And hundreds living in the ponds and streams near my house.”

 

“Ah,” said the Magikarp Salesman. “So, that means—”

 

Remora finally left.

 

A beaten trail led uphill from the Pokemon Center and he let all his pokémon out of their balls.

 

“Okay, we’re going to be fighting a lot of Rock-type pokémon in there! Fighting them will teach us how to fight Obsin,” Remora said to his attentive audience. “Let’s do this!”

 

The mountain opened before them, gaping with the ragged stumps of broken stalactites on its upper lip, and it narrowed quickly into a tunnel only slightly higher than an adult. The pokémon paused pensively at the mouth, glanced back at their trainer, then led the way.

 

The stone of Mt. Moon was pale, almost colorless, but hued with the faintest of blues, and regularly stained with hairy patches of green and turquoise bioluminescent molds. These lit their way until the tunnel suddenly opened up, and tremendously so, into a vast yawning chamber that spread far behind the eye could see, even with the aid of the light-bearing molds. Spikes of glistening stone thrust upwards and downwards, dripping, and the air tasted damp. The stone carried a thousand whispering movements from every direction, changing them in curious ways, making them strange and unrecognizable.

 

Almost the moment they stepped inside, something shrieked in greeting.

 

Zubat spun in a mid-air dive, darting past Charmander, who cried out in pain as its gaping mouth sneaked a quick bite. Zubat rose again, spun, and uttered an irregular, magnified warble; Charmander and Nidoran cried out in pain before they began to stagger, pumping into one another, and falling.

 

Remora clenched his ears and groaned. “No… Not already!”

 

Zubat dove for his pokémon once again, but it freakishly froze in mid-air. Zubat panicked, squeaking fearfully, before swinging left and right before shooting like a bullet off into the dark. Exeggcute hopped out of its pouch, approached the confused pokémon, and shone its eyes upon them. They blinked furiously and snapped out of it.

 

“Oh, thanks, Marx,” Remora said. “You shouldn’t tire yourself out like that.”

 

Remora bent down and offered the pouch again, but it remained fast in place.

 

“Come on, Marx. You know you can’t fight alone.”

 

Exeggcute closed its eyes and croaked in a surly manner.

 

“Well, I can’t make you do what you don’t want to,” Remora said. “Protect him, okay?”

 

Charmander and Nidoran nodded.

 

What they wanted were Rock-type pokémon, not these Zubat. Remora followed a rock wall on his left for a while, but as it turned to the right he stopped, and considered the more open area to the right. On a hunch, he took out his electric torch, and shone it in the direction. A cloud of Zubat scattered like mist and further on, Remora thought he could see regular, repeating lumps set against the floor.

 

“This way,” Remora said, and gestured for the pokémon to keep behind him. To keep from disturbing anything, he turned his light back off, and approached the lumps stealthily. Once they came close, he called for a stop, and Remora looked closely at the nearest lump, then pointed.

 

“Marx, use Leech Seed on it!”

 

Exeggcute pointed its open shell forward and shot out only a single seed; it wobbled and tilted out of place, but Nidoran dashed forward, leaping and kicking, launching the seed right on top of the stone. The rock wriggled in place as roots wrapped around it and Geodude pushed itself free, tearing the plant-life off itself with no effort.

 

“I knew it!” Remora said. Dozen more of the Geodude were resting in almost every direction. As Geodude bounced angrily towards them, Remora noticed none of the others had taken any notice.

 

“Go, Kaiser! Double Kick!”

 

Geodude winced against Nidoran’s blows, but it rebounded, and Nidoran danced around its charge, kicking it hard again. It spun in place, sweeping away Nidoran with its out-stretched arms. Nidoran fell to its side, its ears twitched, and it flipped to its feet as Geodude’s conjoined fists slammed the point it had just been. Nidoran’s legs smashed into Geodude’s face, launching it back into its hole.

 

With an annoyed grunt, Geodude pushed itself downwards, and borrowed underground.

 

“Good. Good!” said Remora. “Now you, Scrappy.”

 

A spray of embers awoke the next Geodude and as it pulled itself free, a second spray beat it down. A plume of dust rose and Remora was startled to discover it had already fled.

 

“Huh. That doesn’t make sense,” said Remora. “Maybe it was a weak one?”

 

Nidoran barked aggrievedly, from its turn being skipped, as Remora sent Charmander out again. As the fire awoke the next Geodude, it hopped upwards with a groan of pain, clutching its head. A patch of stone had become smooth and shiny; it scratched the patch furiously, leaving it vulnerable to a final fiery blast that knocked it backwards, unconscious.

 

“It happened again,” Remora said, perplexed. “A Fighting-type move takes longer to defeat it than a Fire-type move? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re both about as strong as each other.” Nidoran glared at Charmander, who merely crossed its arms arrogantly. Remora wisely decided to bring them both back in and scooped Exeggcute back up.

 

Remora stepped away from the Geodude field, towards a part of the watch completely covered in glowing moss, pulled out his newest purchase, and let the table of contents guide him to the page on Geodude. Reading the entry, he knew basically everything it told him about. Geodude were simple and common pokémon; some of them lived in the hills near Pallet Town, even. However, a series of colored bars in the bottom-right corner attracted his eye.

 

The guide called them “Average Parameters” which was just what they called the average calculated proficiency of that species’ abilities. Apparently, this was very controversial in scientific circles, since ideas such as “Defense” and “Special Attack” were so variable and almost abstract to the point of being useless, although hardcore battlers swore by them.

 

Remora noticed Geodude had a poor Special Defense but an extremely high Defense; on a hunch, he searched through several other similar pokémon, and discovered a similar trend: both Rock- and Ground-type pokémon tended to have poor Special Defense, including Onix.

 

“So even though Rock-types resist Ember, it doesn’t really come down to anything at all,” Remora mused. “This is good. I think I even burned that Geodude back there, so they aren’t even immune to that. I can use this.”

 

A chorus of grunts resonated across the chamber as the Geodude bounced towards him as one. Scooping up Exeggcute, he ran, and heard the crack of rocks shattering against the ground to his left and right. He felt the breeze of one shooting over his hair and he walked through some of its fragments where it shattered several feet in front of him.

 

Remora went on blindly, turning on impulse, until he heard the noise of the Geodude recede into a distant, insignificant mumble. Slipping Exeggcute back into its pouch, Remora braced against his knees and panted. He had left the chamber behind and entered somewhere around the size of a subway tunnel.

 

Spending the entire morning to get to Mt. Moon had taken more of his energy than he had thought, and he hadn’t even eaten lunch. Now he wasn’t even sure if he could get out.

 

Remora continued on, seeking some nook where they could safely eat. A tunnel branched to the left, then two to the right, but he took none of them. Eventually he just sat down by the wall, set up lunch, and let his pokémon out. They devoured their food ravenously, and Remora felt guilty for leaving them hungry for so long.

 

As they ate Remora tensed at a tapping noise coming down the corridor. Footsteps. Remora did not know whether it would be wiser to avert his eyes or not. Eventually by the mold-glow he could perceive two men dressed in odd black uniforms with prominent red R emblazoned all across their torsos. The first was stoutly built, approaching middle age with a developing paunch, while the second was young and lean with a long beakish nose and short auburn hair almost entirely hidden by his black cap.

 

Remora did not know what to make of them. The older man approached, and the second followed, with his eyes fixed on Remora’s feeding pokémon.

 

“Good evening, young man. A trainer, I presume?” The older man pushed down the younger’s hand as he grabbed a pokéball.

 

“Yes,” said Remora. “We’re eating and not interested in a battle now.”

 

“Neither are we, of course,” said the older man. “Listen, we belong to an organization currently surveying Mt. Moon for… scientific purposes. We’re just spreading the word to all trainers passing through here that if you find any fossils, or Moon Stones, we’ll pay for them, if we find them to be of the quality that we’re looking for.”

 

“Nurse Joy told me fossils needed to be inspected before I could keep them,” said Remora.

 

“Yes, of course, everybody knows that,” the man said. “However, that inspection only needs to occur after you leave Mt. Moon, isn’t that right? Effectively, we’re not really paying you for the fossil, but for the labor of finding it. Budget cuts have left a little understaffed, you see…”

 

“Oh. That makes sense.” Remora’s sister always used to complain about the budget; institutes of learning and science were always getting wrecked in that department. “I’m not out looking for stones, but if I stumble onto any, I’ll consider it.”

 

“That’s all we’re asking,” said the man with a sallow grin. “Come on, Boris.”

 

“But—”

 

“I said come on. We have work to do.”

 

Boris scowled and followed his superior with a bowed and resentful face, and they vanished into the darkness. Even after all that, Remora still did not know what to make of them. However, he decided it would be best to stop here for the day and try to follow his tracks, or else he’d get lost for sure. This trip had been poorly planned.

 

A pair of Zubat burst onto them as soon as they finished eating, but Exeggcute’s psychic power once again took them in its grip. Remora wondered about his Exeggcute, and whether it was becoming accustomed to its lonely existence, but the thought struck him with a pang of guilt. Maybe it was wrong to focus on the Gym; perhaps he should try to make his way down to the Safari Zone—perhaps through a ferry at Vermillion—to try and help Exeggcute. Though the seed pokémon had shown no signs of dissatisfaction, how could he think himself a talented enough trainer to notice them? Once, Remora had heard that only psychics themselves could properly control Psychic-type pokémon. Perhaps he had no business being Exeggcute’s trainer in the first place.

 

Remora felt he was going the right way and besides the Zubat, he encountered no pokémon. Once he paused, alerted by the steady sing-song noise he thought he could just barely hear whispering through the cavern wall. It was so faint that he could not be sure of what it was. It could have been nothing but a subterranean stream of wind whistling in from some hole in the stone. Remora wished it was a choir of Clefairy. With their magical Fairy-type abilities, he thought, he could surely defeat the Gym Leader.

 

The wish soured quickly, however. Remora had put his pokémon through so much training just to defeat Onix. Would it be fair to just capture some other strong pokémon and win that way? Even so, when he noticed a tunnel branching in the direction, he thought he heard the singing from, he followed it.

 

However, the tunnel dipped almost immediately, so that he was probably somewhere under the sources of the singing. The cavern changed here; there was less stone and more compact dirt making up the walls, and as he turned on his flashlight he noticed signs of burrowing.

 

It didn’t seem safe, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Remora crushed shoeprints into the damp, soft earth with every step he took. Small tunnels opened all over the walls and he kept his flashlight against the floor for fear of openings underfoot, although he did not see anything. Remora froze as his flashlight fell on a large, jagged brown shape which he almost passed over as a boulder or large clod of dirt.

 

However, it rattled, spreading broad thick spikes apart as it unfurled.

 

A Sandslash bigger than himself stared at him. It spike-like paws were held forward. It made no aggressive moves, but Remora took no chances, and let loose Nidoran.

 

Sandslash twisted its back toward them and its quills bristled with a rattling noise, and Remora considered the possibility that going on the offensive against such a powerful wild pokémon might be a mistake. On the other hand, Ground-types had the advantage against Rock-types.

 

“Poison it!” Remora shouted.

 

A spray of needles sprang from the tip of Nidoran’s horns, snapping instantly on contact with Sandslash’s back, and it came slashing forward, sending Nidoran into a panic as it frantically hopped away from its spade-like forelimbs. Nidoran tripped onto its stomach and Sandslash drove its claw forward before freezing. Nidoran’s spines rattled inches from its paw. Sandslash took a few steps backward, then jumped high, over Nidoran’s head and diving hard into the rock.

 

“It’s underground, Kaiser!” said Rem, looking around. “Kaiser, you… Get on that boulder, there!”

 

Nidoran sighted the large, black stone Remora pointed out, but as it ran for the safety the ground below it cracked and lifted as Sandslash erupted in clumps of battering earth, hurtling Nidoran backwards. Remora ran after it, desperately chasing its flight path, before jumping to catch it. A spine scratched his chest as his arms pressed Nidoran against it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

 

The Sandslash stomped its hindlegs like a Tauros, and its body was bent down as it readied another charge.

 

“I don’t think I can fix it easily, though.”

 

Withdrawing Nidoran, he had to let out Charmander. His second pokémon brooked no hesitation even at the sight of this opponent. Sandslash darted into the hole it had just made and Charmander darted straight for the mouth. Charmander hovered at its lip, looking as thought it wanted to go in.

 

“No! I’ll lose you!” Remora screamed. Charmander stared back, eyes asking for orders. Remora searched the ground, wondering where it might emerge, and in his desperation to save his pokémon he realized he did not need to know.

 

“Breathe all the fire you can, as fast as you can, as hot as you can!” Remora shouted. “Straight into that hole!”

 

The tail-flame shot up long, dark and erect, driving the shadow away as its crimson color spread across the stone, casting shadows like hungry teeth from the stalagmites. With a shrill cry, fire billowed out of Charmander’s throat and streamed into the tunnel until it guttered away. Charmander coughed. Remora looked nervously around.

 

A heap of earth and stone gradually massed to Remora’s right, between him and Charmander. Sandslash’s screaming came out before it did, jumping free as fires danced on the fur of its legs and tail, and it ran about in a random panic.

 

“Charge! Scratch it! Just keep scratching it!”

 

Charmander’s claws tore at Sandslash’s face again and again, never letting it have the slightest moment’s chance to gather its senses, until Charmander suddenly stood still. As did Sandslash, in a daze, its head bruised. Charmander’s muscles tensed up as its drawn-back arm trembled, and with an echoing clang its claws turned hard and gray.

 

“Scrappy. That’s…”

 

Scrappy lunged at Sandslash, swinging its steelified claw, and landed before Remora, its claw still extended behind it. Sandslash stood still for a moment, then several of its spines splintered and cracked. It collapsed.

 

“Metal Claw!” Remora lifted up his pokémon and swung it through the air. “Metal Claw, Scrappy! This is it! We can finally win! We can finally get our first badge!”

 

         


End file.
